


A Thousand Bad Times

by fishmaell



Category: Bleach
Genre: Alternate Universe - Law Enforcement, Cybernetics, Gun Violence, M/M, Mystery, Near Future, Suspense
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-26
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:55:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 19,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24387817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fishmaell/pseuds/fishmaell
Summary: When two cops turn up brutally murdered, Intelligence Agent Grimmjow and his partner Ulquiorra are called in to investigate. This leads him to the doorstep of Ichigo, a med student who clearly knows more than he’s willing to admit. As the case begins to unravel, however, Grimmjow discovers Ichigo isn’t the only one keeping secrets.
Relationships: Grimmjow Jaegerjaques/Kurosaki Ichigo
Comments: 11
Kudos: 98





	1. Chapter 1

_i had a thousand bad times, so what’s another time to me?_ _  
_ _you try to burn my house down, but what’s another house to me?_ _  
_ _’cause i can take anything that you give me_ _  
_ _it’s gonna take a lot more to kill me, bitch_ _  
_ _so thank you for the grave, i needed me a place to sleep._ _  
_

Red and blue lights reflected off wet pavement. After brandishing his badge at the attending officer, Grimmjow ducked under the police tape cordoning off the alley. The scene was grisly; two uniformed policemen lay in the street, holes gaping in both their chests. The blood pooled beneath them had mixed with rain, diluting as it flowed to the drain. Grimmjow caught a glint of the moon in the swirling crimson. Looming over the men stood his partner, Ulquiorra, with hands in coat pockets. 

“The hell kinda weapon leaves a wound like that?” Grimmjow asked, nodding towards the bodies.

Ulquiorra didn’t look at him. “It’s the medical examiner’s job to determine that.”

“Really must’a pissed someone off to end up like this.”

“They were reporting to a special agent at the Seireitei. We’re waiting on her arrival with more information.”

Grimmjow raised his brows. “A Shinigami? Feds got these poor bastards in a li’l over their heads, eh?”

“You’re right,” a woman’s voice called from behind him. Grimmjow turned to meet her. She was short, with black hair falling to her shoulders and large, violet eyes. “I shouldn’t have sent them alone.” Her mood was somber. “I should have recognized I was putting them in danger.”

“You the one from the Seireitei?”

She nodded and held out her hand. “Special Agent Rukia Kuchiki.”

He didn’t reciprocate the gesture, instead crossing his arms. “Special Agent Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez. Hueco Mundo Intelligence.” Rukia retracted her hand with a huff.

“Special Agent Ulquiorra Cifer. We spoke on the phone.”

“A pleasure, Agents,” Rukia choked out through gritted teeth, “to meet the men working to avenge my people.” It appeared that she was being pressured to cooperate from higher up. Grimmjow mused that it must upset her to have to surrender the case to Intelligence. She would likely prefer to personally apprehend whoever was responsible. Unfortunately for her, her involvement with the officers was exactly what precluded the Seireitei from being awarded jurisdiction. “I will answer whatever questions you may have to assist with your investigation.”

Ulquiorra reached up to his left temple and pressed gently. Recognizing this to mean the man’s cybernetic eye was now recording, Grimmjow took it as a cue to begin the interview. “What’d ya send ’em off to do that got ’em killed?”

Rukia avoided his eyes. “They were escorting a crucial witness to our offices for questioning. An old friend of mine, Orihime Inoue. I know her, I know she’s not dangerous, so I assumed they would be safe.” She clutched her elbow with the opposite hand chokingly tight. “I didn’t consider the trouble Orihime herself was in. She’s missing now, clearly the actual target of this attack.”

Grimmjow raised an eyebrow. “‘Trouble’?”

“We believe she may have gotten herself involved with…” She sighed. “Kisuke Urahara.”

His eyes widened. The man was a wanted criminal, in hiding for over a decade. A bit before his time, but everyone at the agency knew the story. Urahara was a former researcher of advanced cybernetic technology, employed by the state to enhance Seireitei agents. While using a breakthrough technique, he horrendously damaged and disfigured eight senior Shinigami slated to become the new “Visored” Response Team. He had pushed the surgeries far beyond ethical boundaries, and when his actions came to light, chief officials called for his imprisonment as a traitor. He had disappeared though, along with his attendant Tessai Tsukabishi, the Seireitei’s Stealth Force Commander Yoruichi Shihouin, and all eight Visored patients. “You’ve gotta be fuckin’ kidding me.”

“I wouldn’t joke about something as serious as this. He must be the one who took her, afraid that she would talk.” Her expression was stern, almost withering. “I do hope you actually find the creep and rescue my friend.”

“Her being your friend will have no bearing on the outcome of this case, Agent Kuchiki,” Ulquiorra spoke for the first time since he had introduced himself. “You should prepare yourself in the event that we’re unable to produce the results you’re seeking.”

“Give the girl a break, Ulquiorra.” Grimmjow grinned, teeth sharp and words dripping with sarcastic empathy. “I’m sure she feels bad enough, being the reason that her friend got grabbed and all. She shouldn’t _also_ have to worry about being responsible for her death.” 

Rukia balled a hand into a fist. “You know how to reach me if you think of anything else,” she spat, turning on her heel and stepping out of the alley.

Grimmjow glanced back at his partner. “Ya think we were too hard on her?” His smile hadn’t left his face.

“It’s pointless to worry about what’s already in the past.”

“Don’t go gettin’ all philosophical on me.”

“The ME’s here!” The attending called out to them.

Backing farther into the narrow corridor, the two agents made room for the medical examiner, a slender man with pale pink hair and glasses.

“Ya sure took your sweet time.”

“It’s four o’clock in the morning, Grimmjow,” Szayel declared languidly. “ _Some_ of us were trying to get our beauty rest.” He crouched over the bodies to begin his assessment. Grimmjow surmised that the man would start with the wound sites, being able to magnify his vision with enhanced retinas and custom lenses. “Hmm,” he pondered aloud. “Fascinating.”

“Ya gonna share with the class or what?” Grimmjow wasn’t in the mood to indulge the medical examiner in the theatrical show he regularly put on. 

Szayel scoffed. “At a broad glance, the edge of the wound is smooth and even. Close up, however, there are hundreds of microscopic tears. That suggests the weapon was dull or blunt, plunged in with extraordinary speed.”

“S’that even possible?”

“Well, to be frank, it appears almost… _inhuman_.” His lips curled around the word.

Grimmjow’s eyes narrowed, wondering if Szayel was implying what it sounded like he was implying. An Espada? 

“Perhaps it _was_ Kisuke Urahara.” Ulquiorra’s voice was flat and emotionless. He had yet to meet his partner’s eyes.

Grimmjow was unbothered; in the year they’d been working together, he didn’t think Ulquiorra had looked at him once. “And what makes ya say that?” 

“The man used to augment for the Seireitei. Don’t you think he could be capable of things some would call ‘inhuman’?”

Grimmjow shrugged his shoulders. It sounded more plausible than the alternative, at least. “Not the best start though, is it? An initial suspect who’s already evaded the law for years?”

“That’s the job, Jaegerjaquez. They don’t send agents of our rank after trivial criminals.”

“No.” He shook his head ever so slightly. “No, I s’pose they don’t.”  
  


* * *

  
Grimmjow lazily swiped his hand in front of the large digital display in their office, feet resting on his desk. Left. Left. Left. The Shinigami had sent him the files pertaining to Urahara, including material on the missing girl. Nothing he learned was particularly useful in locating the man. Grimmjow imagined that if they’d had anything concrete regarding his whereabouts, they wouldn’t have needed to question the girl. He stopped at a picture of her. She didn’t look like someone who would associate with a man like that, one who had operated undetected for so long. How could she be keeping his secrets? Especially from the Shinigami, who seemed to consider herself close with the redhead. It didn’t make sense. He picked up his phone and dialed. “Kuchiki, it’s Jaegerjaquez. I got a question for ya. What is it about this girl that’s got the Seireitei so convinced she’s Urahara’s nurse?”

“You’ve had access to all our files for several hours now, Agent.”

“The only thing I found is that she’s definitely got the background for it.” Grimmjow had read that Orihime was a graduate nursing student until her brother died and she withdrew from school. She had been in the middle of an internship under the current cybernetics surgeon for the Seireitei. He smirked. “Is that how you two met, by the way?”

“I don’t believe that’s any of your business.”

“Yeah, yeah, no fun allowed, whatever. Still, there’s nothing in these files that connects her with Urahara. I mean, she was still in elementary school when he went off the grid. How would they have even met?”

“He’s a resourceful man; he must have ways to recruit employees.”

“Don’t gimme that bullshit. I’m not as dumb as I look. You must’a had something, or you wouldn’t’a been bringing your little friend in.”

Rukia was silent for a moment. “It was an anonymous call to a tip line. They used a voice modulator, and we couldn’t trace their location. It wasn’t worth putting in a report.”

“What’d they say?”

“‘This message is for Special Agent Rukia Kuchiki. Orihime Inoue works as a nurse for the fugitive Kisuke Urahara performing illegal cybernetic enhancement surgeries.’ They repeated it a few times, as if it was a recording, then hung up.”

“Don’tcha think it’s a bit weird that you get a tip like that, you investigate her, you have her brought in for questioning, and then she gets snatched right out from under your nose?”

“Yes, I do think it’s weird, you idiot. That’s why I’m telling you.”

“Touchy, touchy. I know you’re upset, but you don’t hafta call me names.”

“You should be grateful that’s all I called you. I’ve had worse in mind.”

Grimmjow barked a laugh. “I like the fight in you, Kuchiki! It’s more fun when they bite back.” He pulled his feet to the floor and sat forward in his chair. “You got anything else ya been keeping from me? About the case, I mean; you can save your insults.”

“A few of her… associates may not have made it into her file. I didn’t want to drag their names into this until I’d heard what she had to say.”

“More friends of yours?”

“Shut up.”

“I’ll take that as a yes. How’s this sound, then, Shinigami? Send me the names and addresses, and I’ll pick ya up when I go to talk to ’em.”

“I’m not supposed to be on this case.”

“I won’t tell if you don’t.”

She paused again, longer this time. “How can I trust you?”

“Not a fuckin’ clue!” He grinned. “I guess I could just go question your friends all by my lonesome.”

Rukia exhaled sharply. “I’ll be taking my lunch in an hour.”

“Thatta girl. It’s a date, then.”

“Choke on it, Jaegerjaquez.” The line went dead.

He chuckled to himself. He missed getting a rise out of people like that; Ulquiorra never took the bait. When a new file blinked onto the screen, containing information about Orihime’s aforementioned associates, he brought up the first page with a wave of his hand. A university identification photo was then displayed: a med student with outrageous orange hair. He was attractive, Grimmjow would admit, and not much younger than he was. It was a shame they’d only be meeting for business and not pleasure. He grazed his tongue over his teeth and wondered if he could convince the Shinigami to have an early lunch.  
  


* * *

  
A small pebble plinked off the second-story window. No response. Rukia swung her arm back for another shot.

“There a reason we can’t just knock on the door or…?”

“His two younger sisters live and work here too.” She launched a second stone. “I don’t want to tell them that Orihime is missing.” And a third. “Not if I don’t have to.”

The window was finally wrenched open, and the handsome med student from the photo leaned out of it, enraged. “Rukia! What the hell is your problem? You ever heard of a doorbell?” He looked to the unfamiliar face and pointed. “And who the hell is that? You better not be trying to set me up on a date again!” The last comment made Grimmjow smirk. 

“No, you idiot, it’s serious!” Rukia yelled back. “He’s from Hueco Mundo Intelligence. Get down here!”

Ichigo grumbled to himself but slipped back into his room and closed the window. 

Grimmjow leaned down to hiss directly into the woman’s ear. “Ya wanna yell that a li’l louder, Shinigami? I don’t think the next district over heard you the first time.”

She jumped with a start, pressing a hand over her mouth. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled into her fingers. “I wasn’t thinking…”

He straightened up. “S’alright, I’m just fuckin’ with ya. I’m not a spy; my job isn’t a secret. Don’t want my business broadcasted when it doesn’t hafta be, though.”

Rukia shot him a glare, but before she could respond, the door to the clinic swung open. Ichigo stepped out, dressed in light blue scrubs. He was scowling, but Grimmjow sensed more than that in his expression. Tension, he thought. The kid was nervous about something. “What is SO important that you had to interrupt me while I’m working?”

“Ichigo…” Rukia’s voice was soft. 

The redhead’s body stiffened; Grimmjow could tell he realized the news was bad. They must all be close, then. He decided to take the reins. “It’s your friend, Orihime. She’s missing—taken, most likely.”

Ichigo’s eyes darkened. “Taken by _who_?”

“Well, we were hoping you might know somethin’ about that.”

“What’s this even got to do with you, anyway, Mister ‘Hueco Mundo Intelligence’?” His fingers gestured in the air sarcastically. “One missing person seems a little below your pay grade, no?”

“The name’s Grimmjow. You’re not wrong, though, kid. They wouldn’ta dragged me out just to find your friend.”

“Kid? I’m fucking 26!”

Grimmjow flicked his hand as if he was swatting Ichigo’s words away. “Sure, whatever, doesn’t matter. What’s important is I’ve got two dead cops and your li’l Orihime has suspected ties to a wanted man.”

“Wanted man…? Rukia, what the hell is this guy on about?”

“He’s telling the truth, Ichigo. We were bringing her in for questioning, but…” She faltered before shaking her head and continuing. “She never made it to my office, and the men who were escorting her were killed.”

“What’d you get her wrapped up in this time?”

“ _I_ had nothing to do with it! There was a tip line call that she was working for _Kisuke Urahara_. What else could I have done?”

“You _could_ have fucking ignored it, like she would have done for you.”

“You know I can’t do that! I’d lose my job!”

“If your job put Orihime in danger, then maybe it was a shitty fucking job to begin with!”

“That is not fair, Ichigo.” Rukia’s voice wavered for only a moment, thick with emotion. “You know perfectly well that I have been doing everything in my power to protect her. I am sorry that it wasn’t enough, but you cannot put this only on me.”

Ichigo’s expression twinged, looking pained. “You’re right. I’m sorry.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “What do we do now?”

“Now, you tell us what you know about Urahara so Intelligence can find him and rescue Orihime.”

“You think _he_ took her?”

“Who else could it have been?”

Ichigo opened his mouth to respond but then suddenly looked to Grimmjow as if he’d just remembered the man was there. 

Grimmjow winked at him, making Ichigo avert his gaze. “You know something, don’tcha, kid?”

“I already _told_ you I’m not a fucking kid!” His voice grew small, the next words coming as mere mumbles. “And I don’t know anything about that. I can’t help you.”

“Ichigo.” Rukia grabbed both of his arms, her voice pleading. “You have to trust me.”

“You’re not the one I’m worried about, Ru.” 

Grimmjow huffed. “Not my funeral, I guess. If you change your mind—” He slipped a card into the shirt pocket of Ichigo’s scrubs and patted it. “Call me.” He turned and started toward his car.

“Jaegerjaquez!” Rukia called after him. “You’re just gonna walk away?”

He stopped, looking back over his shoulder. “If he doesn’t wanna talk, he doesn’t wanna talk, right? Maybe his friend Chad’ll be in a more cooperative mood.” 

Ichigo pushed past Rukia and grabbed Grimmjow’s shoulder, hard, flipping him around. He stuck a finger in the taller man’s face. “You stay the hell away from him, you—”

Grimmjow seized him by the wrist and twisted it behind his back, shoving until Ichigo’s face was flush against the car window. His mouth hovered by the med student’s exposed ear. “Unless you wanna spend the night in a cell, don’t you put your fucking hands on me like that again.” He pressed harder into his back. “You got that?” He snarled, and Ichigo nodded. “You don’t wanna trust me? Fine. I couldn’t give a shit. But I’m the one whose job it is to find your little friend. If you don’t think you should talk to me, then don’t, but don’t you _dare_ get in my way either.” He let go of the other man and brushed his hands down his dress shirt, smoothing out the wrinkles from their fray. “Let’s go, Kuchiki.” Rukia looked furious with him but said nothing as she got in the car.

The vehicle pulled away, and Grimmjow took one last look at Ichigo in the rearview mirror. He was blushing wildly, mouth slightly agape and breathing labored, while his hands rested awkwardly at the front of his pants. Grimmjow couldn’t help the fiendish smile that crept onto his face.  
  


* * *

  
When they were out of view, Ichigo pulled his phone from his pants pocket. He had finally collected himself after… He shook the thought away, not wanting to get worked up again. He dialed and put the phone to his ear. “Yo, you still got friends in high enough places to look into an Intelligence agent for me? He came around with Rukia asking questions.” He looked at the card that was left in his shirt. “Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez… No, it’s spelled all kinds of stupid. Can I just send you a pic of his business card?” He took a deep breath. “And, uh… can you ask the manager if he was planning to tell me that Orihime is missing?”


	2. Chapter 2

“You didn’t have to be so rough with him,” Rukia said, after having ridden in silence for a while. 

Grimmjow glanced at her; she was staring out the window. “He needed to get the message. I didn’t hurt ’im.”

“He’s just… he has this savior complex… like he’s the only one who can protect all his friends. I can’t think of much that would’ve set him off more than insinuating you’ll harass Chad next.”

“I’m not gonna harass him. I just got questions.”

“That’s not the way you said it, and you know that.”

Grimmjow gripped the steering wheel a little harder. He didn’t know why it bothered him so much that the Shinigami had called him out for antagonizing Ichigo. “I thought it might loosen his lips,” he lied. “Smarter guy than him might’ve told me somethin’ useful if he thought it’d keep me away from somebody he wanted to protect.” He could feel Rukia’s eyes on him. He kept his on the road.

“Ichigo is smart enough to know when he’s being provoked, Grimmjow.”

He scoffed. “How was I s’posed to know that?” He pulled the car into a parking lot for a sizable apartment building. “We’re here, anyway.” Getting out of the car with awkward silence, they entered the building to climb several flights of stairs. When they reached the right floor, they navigated through the long, narrow hallway towards the apartment they were looking for. Grimmjow knocked on the door. 

It opened just a crack, and a low voice rumbled out from inside. “Ichigo already told me not to talk to you guys.” 

The door started to close again, but Grimmjow was faster. He wedged his foot into the opening, preventing it from slamming shut. “He tell you why we’re here, too? That Orihime is missin’?”

“Yes.”

“He mention Urahara’s involvement?” The man on the other side of the door was quiet. “Should I take that as a no?” Grimmjow suddenly felt a crushing force against his foot. He looked down to see the metal door buckling around it. Strange. “Ya sure are  _ awfully _ strong, Chad,” he remarked pointedly.

“How… are you… resisting?” His voice sounded strained.

“By the looks of things, I’d say ya might already be familiar with the answer to that question.”

The pressure from the door lifted as it swung open fully. The man stood, enormously tall and broad, with hands clenched in fists. His complexion was tanned, but his arms… They looked metal. Grimmjow had expected as much. “I don’t know what you mean by that,” Chad said, rolling a wrist, “but I think it’s time for you to leave now.” He glared out from beneath a mop of brown hair. 

Grimmjow snorted at the threat. The man didn’t understand who he was talking to, but this was neither the time nor the place to prove that. He pretended to get the message. “Alright, alright.” He put up his hands as if to surrender. “We won’t bother you about this anymore, right, Kuchiki?” He looked over at her; her mouth was ajar, her eyes wide. “Kuchiki!”

Her attention snapped to him. “Yes! Yes, of course. Let’s go.” She hurried past him through the hallway and towards the door they came in. 

Grimmjow leisurely walked behind her, watching her sprint down the stairs, then out the front door to the car. When he caught up to her, she had placed one hand on the hood and one on her knee, panting. “So that was the first time ya’ve seen him like that, then?”

“What was that?” She could barely get her words out between breaths. “What was  _ any _ of that?”

“Urahara’s doing, no doubt. That’s why neither of ’em will talk.”

“What about you? What you  _ said _ to him?”

“Don’t pay any attention to that. Sometimes you gotta ham it up to trick ‘em into doin’ somethin’ stupid.” He heard a noise of disbelief from the woman. “Hey, it worked, didn’t it? He showed us what they were hidin‘.”

“And your foot?”

“I got real strong bones, Kuchiki. It’s an advantage in this line of work.”

She looked up at him, still hunched over. “I think my lunch break is up.”

“What about the other ones? Ishida, Arisawa—”

“Maybe… maybe we should hold off on questioning them.”

“And give them more time to come up with a unified story?” Grimmjow leaned down until he was eye to eye with Rukia. “You scared’a me now, Shinigami?”

She shied away from his stare. “I just need to get back to my office.”

He straightened up and put his hands in his pockets nonchalantly. “Have it your way. Get in, I’ll take you back.” The two exchanged no words after that, quietly driving to their destination of the Seireitei. She wouldn’t even look at him when she climbed out of the passenger seat.

When he pulled into his spot in the Intelligence office’s basement, he slammed his fists on the steering wheel. “Dammit!” He knew these kids had information that could help him, but he had no idea how to get it out of them. Moreover, he had exposed his unnatural ability to the Shinigami. He hoped she knew better than to ask questions; he didn’t want to see her get killed. He decided that before he tried to talk to the remaining friends, he would look into them beyond the information she had provided. He wouldn’t be surprised if she had still kept things from him, or maybe she had overlooked something important. Maybe he’d have Ulquiorra investigate them, too. As much as he hated asking the man for help, it was terrifying sometimes the information he could turn up. 

He took the lengthy elevator ride in their high-rise building and sauntered to the back of the floor, throwing open one of the large, glass doors to his and Ulquiorra’s shared office. “Feel like runnin’ some expanded background checks for me, Cifer? They’re for sure involved with Urahara, but they’re keepin’ quiet.”

“I’ll see what I can do, but I have no guarantees. Names?”

“Sado Yasutora, Uryuu Ishida, Tatsuki Arisawa, and…” Grimmjow hesitated. One, he wanted to save for himself. “And that’s it.” He sat down at his desk to begin his own research into the man. He wouldn’t let Kurosaki get the better of him.  
  


* * *

  
Grimmjow jerked a thumb over his shoulder at a fresh face on the floor. “Who’s the new guy?” The man was small and slender, androgynous in appearance, with short, black hair and diamonds tattooed on his forehead.

Ulquiorra glanced up from his computer and through the office doors. “Luppi Antenor. He’s angling for a…  _ ranked _ position here.”

“There ain’t any ranked positions open.”

“Not currently, no.” He looked back at his work, appearing bored. “I wouldn’t get too comfortable, though.”

“You know somethin’ I don’t, Cifer?”

“Only that our director is always looking for places to make improvements.”

Grimmjow clenched his fists. “Bastard…” he muttered under his breath. He pulled one door open and stalked onto the floor, right up to the man. He tapped him on the shoulder. “Heard ya have your sights set on a single digit, huh?”

Luppi spun gracefully towards the question. “And you are…?”

“You should really know all the names of the guys whose job ya want.”

He looked him up and down contemptuously. “Oh. You must be Grimmjow, then?”

“So you  _ weren’t  _ born yesterday!” 

“Sorry, I simply didn’t think it was worth remembering your face, considering I won’t be seeing it around here for much longer.”

“I ain‘t goin’ anywhere, Princess.”

“You sound so sure of that! Would it interest you to know I have a meeting scheduled with Director Aizen about my future with the agency?”

The hairs on the back of Grimmjow’s neck stood up; the director rarely interacted with low-ranking employees. He had a visceral feeling that this guy would only be trouble for him. “You couldn’t hack it in my place. You couldn’t make the sacrifices you need to make.”

“Well, I can think of at least  _ one _ thing I’m willing to sacrifice.” His words were pointed, coated with venom.

It seemed almost personal to Grimmjow, and he wondered what he’d done to evoke his ire. “You couldn’t if you tried.”

“Do you want to take that risk, Jaegerjaquez? You don’t want to end up like Nel.”

Blue eyes flared with rage. “That name had better not EVER come outta your mouth again or so help me, you’ll be too busy in a coma to go to your little meeting with Director Aizen.” He shoved Luppi aside and stormed into the elevator. He needed to cool down before he did something he’d regret. 

Foregoing his car, he took the elevator to the ground floor instead. He slipped out the front door and made several quick turns down back alleys. His pace was relentless, quicker than his mind could keep up with. He navigated purely by muscle memory, having made the same trip many times in the past year. It followed the path made by his previous partner, Nelliel Tu Odelschwanck, before her transmission dropped off the map altogether. It had happened about a year prior, but there was still no evidence indicating her fate, alive or otherwise. 

Grimmjow had begun these rounds to search the area for anything that may have been missed in the initial investigation. Now, though, a part of him hoped to run into whoever was responsible. A twisted notion that either he’d be put out of his misery the same way, or he’d kill them first for hurting her. He knew the thought wasn’t a productive or healthy one, but it persisted nonetheless. Once again, however, his sick wish remained ungranted as the trek produced nothing of interest. He instead made his way back to the agency, clocked out, and drove home. 

He dropped into his bed without bothering to get undressed. What was the point when he already knew his sleep would be fitful? His dreams about Nel were less frequent now than when she first disappeared, but Luppi’s words had riled him up. As he drifted off, his head filled with well-worn, familiar thoughts. 

_ Why couldn’t I save her? Why couldn’t I save any of them? Why couldn’t it have been me?  
  
_

* * *

  
A ringtone blared out in the darkness from Grimmjow’s bedside table. He put his pillow over his head. Can’t he make it through at least one night without being interrupted by work? He let it go to voicemail; if it was that important, they would call back. The ringing stopped, and he relaxed. Until it started again. “God dammit!” He snatched the phone from the nightstand and looked at the display. He didn’t recognize the number, but he picked up anyway. “Who is this, and what the fuck do you want?”

“It’s Ichigo. Ichigo Kurosaki? You might remember me as the guy you manhandled in front of his own home.”

Grimmjow snorted, sitting up in bed. He was grateful it was at least something worth waking up for. “You manhandled me first, kid.”

“You’re not nearly old enough to call me that, Grimmjow.”

“Oh? And how would you know that?”

“Did you tell Rukia what you are before you had her introduce you to us? What you  _ really _ are, I mean.”

“I dunno what you’re talkin’ about, Kurosaki.”

“Maybe this will enlighten you, then.” The sound of shuffling papers filled the phone’s speaker. “Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez. Born July 31, 2056. That makes you a whopping 28 years old, ‘kid.’”

“So you found my birthday, congrats. Ya proud of that one?”

“I dunno, Grimmjow. Are you proud of being an Espada?”

Grimmjow’s eyes widened. That information was locked up so tight, he didn’t think he’d even  _ seen  _ his own personnel file. This med student couldn’t possibly have gotten his hands on it, could he? “I still don’t know what you’re talkin’ about. You’re gonna have to run that one by me again.”

“Sexta Espada, right? That’s your official rank? Number  _ Six _ .” He drawled out the number, the sharp sound hissing through the speaker. “I’m not impressed, to be honest. You didn’t feel that strong when you slammed me into your car. I think I could’ve taken you if I’d tried, even with all your fancy enhancements.”

“You talk a pretty big game for someone I left shaking where he stood, Ichigo.” He had brought his voice down to almost a whisper. “ _ I _ think the only way you would’ve taken me is on your hands and knees.” 

A breath hitched through the phone. “Sh—shut the hell up, you bastard. I wouldn’t let you touch me if you were the last guy on Earth.”

“You keep tellin’ yourself that, sweetheart, ’cause from where I was standing, you looked like you wanted me to do a lot more than just touch you.”

“That was—I didn’t—” Ichigo faltered. “You’re a killer!”

“You think your li’l friend Rukia has never killed anybody? It comes with the territory. When a bad dude starts shooting at you, you shoot back.”

“You don’t have to  _ shoot _ back, Grimmjow. I don’t just have the reports on what you’ve done, I know exactly what they did  _ to  _ you. You have artificial skin thickened to provide impact resistance and enough polymer-reinforced muscle fibers to rip someone in half. And that’s not even getting into the actual weapons they augmented you with. They’ve turned you into a glorified attack dog; they point, and you sic ’em.”

“I’m nobody’s fuckin’ attack dog! I do my job like anybody else. Sometimes cases just need somethin’ extra. Somethin’ not every agent can handle. Enhanced perception, stealth, a li’l muscle…”

“You’re not denying what you are, then? You admit you’re an Espada?”

“Kid—Ichigo. You just told me somethin’ about myself that I didn’t even know. You must have big shots for friends ’cause I know those files didn’t  _ fall  _ into your lap. What’s the point in denying it? Hell, you’re probably looking at my pretty picture right now.”

“You didn’t… know?”

“I look like I ripped anybody in half lately?”

“But… these two girls, Loly and Menoly…”

“I dunno what to tell ya, Ichigo, but I sure as shit never hurt any girls. Maybe that was some other Espada, and it made it into my file by mistake.”

“Aizen doesn’t make mistakes.”

Grimmjow huffed. “His name’s the one on that report, then?”

“You don’t sound surprised.”

“That bastard has had it out for me for a while now. First my partner goes missing, then my Fracción turn up dead? I know what comes next. He wants me out.”

“And you’re just gonna accept that? I know I don’t know you that well, but that doesn’t sound like something you’d do.”

“There’s nothing else  _ to _ do. There’s no leaving the Espada. Either you’re useful to him, or you’re dead.”

“It doesn’t have to be that way, Grimmjow.”

“Yeah, well, what would you know?”

“More than you think.” Ichigo’s voice was subdued. “Listen, I’d be careful if I were you. I don’t think it was an accident you got put on this case. You’re not the only one Aizen has it out for. He wants Urahara’s research so badly, I don’t wanna imagine the lengths he’ll go to get it.”

“You know him then, huh? Urahara?” Only silence reached Grimmjow’s ear. “Still don’t trust me, Ichigo?”

“How can I trust a dog who’s ready to roll over and die for his master?”

“I’m not—” Grimmjow started, but several tonal beeps interrupted, indicating that the call had ended. He threw his phone at the wall. “I’m not a fucking DOG!”

He fell back into his pillow, staring at the ceiling. He lay there like that until his morning alarm sounded. Disoriented, he rolled over and groaned into his pillow. He’d felt little time pass. As he dragged himself out of bed, he considered his restless night a blessing in disguise. At least with no sleep, he told himself, there could be no nightmares.


	3. Chapter 3

“Jaegerjaquez!” 

A folder slammed down next to Grimmjow’s head. He shot up, jolted awake. “What?” His eyes focused, and he could make out Ulquiorra standing before his desk.

“The full autopsy. Granz is waiting to present his findings downstairs.” His partner walked towards the doors but paused. “I looked into those names you gave me.”

“And?”

“And you need to leave them alone, Jaegerjaquez. The Shinigami, too.  _ All  _ of them.” He glanced over his shoulder disdainfully. “Including the one you neglected to mention, Ichigo Kurosaki.” 

“Are you fuckin’ crazy? They’re not just our best lead, they’re our  _ only _ lead!”

“It’s not a suggestion. It’s an order. Don’t question me about it again.”

Grimmjow wanted to argue, but looking into Ulquiorra’s cold, unnerving eyes for the first time rendered him speechless. Instead, he followed him to the elevator. He wondered what had been found out; he wasn’t being told to back off for no reason.

The two of them stepped out of the elevator and into the morgue where they were greeted by the medical examiner. “How nice of you to join us, Agents.”

Grimmjow nodded a greeting. “What’cha got, Doc?” 

Szayel gestured a signal to follow him to the examination tables where the victims were laid out. He pointed at one of the substantial holes, encircling it in the air. “I found artificial epithelial tissue in both chest wounds. Difficult to trace, but it seems likely to be Kisuke Urahara’s work.”

“Epithelial tissue? Like… skin?” Grimmjow furrowed his brows in disbelief. “This freak show is out there punchin’ holes in people’s chests?”

“I believe so, Agent. Unfortunately, any other trace evidence we may have uncovered washed away in the rain. The only additional information I was able to glean from autopsy is that the men had no sign of further injury. It’s likely they had no time to fight back or even react to the attack.”

“Forensics said they both drew their weapon, but neither fired. So they probably saw him, but he was too fast for them to do anything,” Grimmjow concluded. “Why kill ’em in the first place? If he was fast enough to finish ’em before they could fire, he was probably fast enough to just run away with the girl. Why even worry about ’em?”

“To leave no witnesses.” Ulquiorra’s voice was as monotonous as ever. “He  _ is  _ a wanted man.” 

Peering out of the side of his vision, Grimmjow studied his partner. He thought he’d sensed something from him, something he couldn’t quite place. A part of him was screaming out a warning, an instinctual danger signal that made his every muscle tense up. He stood there, unsure if he should challenge Ulquiorra’s logic or run as far from him as he could.

Szayel cleared his throat. “Well, that was all I have to share with you gentlemen, so unless you have further questions…”

Grimmjow shook from his reverie and broke into a mask of a grin. “We’ll get outta your hair.”

Upon returning to their office, he had a hard time concentrating on his work. He kept thinking about what he’d sensed and the order he’d been given. What was his partner hiding? He felt a sinking in his stomach, a cloud of uncertainty looming overhead. He decided to leave early; he wasn’t getting anything done anyway. Still in a daze, he navigated the office floor without really seeing. He walked straight into a colleague. “Watch where you’re fuckin’ going,” he snarled reflexively.

“Oh. It’s you again.” The man he had collided with looked up at him with disgust. It was Luppi. 

Grimmjow groaned. “I’m really not in the mood to deal with you today, Princess. Can I get a rain check?”

“So intimidated by me already? Can you perhaps sense that I’m correct when I tell you I’ll be the one to replace you?”

“Not a fuckin’ chance.”

“Can you really not see the writing on the walls? Have you deluded yourself into thinking you have job security?” Luppi lowered his voice to a whisper. “I’ll let you in on a little secret, then. You are currently considered a liability. They’re waiting for any slip-up to warrant giving the ultimate order.” He licked his lips. “Your days are numbered, Jaegerjaquez, and I will be the one there at the end when they finally run out.” He patted the taller man on the shoulder and stepped around him.

Grimmjow watched with clenched fists as he walked away. “Fuck this,” he growled, shaking his head. “Fuck  _ all  _ of this.” He was going to get answers, Ulquiorra’s orders be damned.   
  


* * *

  
Grimmjow leaned over the front desk, displaying his badge for the secretary. “Hueco Mundo Intelligence. I’m lookin’ for a uh… Dr. Uryuu Ishida?”

“Dr. Ishida is a resident here, but it’s quite late and he’s busy in the ER tonight. Can I take a message?”

“I need to talk to ‘im. Tell him it’s about his missing friend.”

“Well, I can try to get ahold of him for you, but—”

“I’ll wait.”

“There’s no need for that.” A doctor with white hair and thin glasses stepped out from an office near the front desk. “You are looking for Uryuu, correct?”

“Yeah, and you are?”

“The director of this hospital… and his father. I’ll take you to him so you can ask your questions and leave.”

Grimmjow shrugged. “After you, I guess.” 

The hospital director briskly steered through several winding hallways and into a secluded break room, where the younger Ishida sat eating a small meal. He cleared his throat. “Uryuu. Someone from Hueco Mundo Intelligence is here to speak with you. Do not embarrass me.” He stepped out of earshot and leaned against a doorframe with intimidating authority.

Grimmjow sat down at the table across from Uryuu. “You hear from Ichigo already, too?”

The man didn’t look up from his food. “I am aware of the circumstances.” 

“You got anything you wanna tell me about it?”

“Can’t say that I do.”

The corner of Grimmjow’s mouth turned down. He didn’t appreciate the resident’s attitude. “What about your friend Chad? Ya know what happened to ’im?”

“I don’t know what you’re referring to.”

“You  _ seen _ him lately?” He received only a quirked eyebrow in response. “His arms are more than a li’l weird, I found out. Thought Kuchiki was gonna drop dead when she got a good look.”

Uryuu adjusted his glasses. “He showed you, did he?”

“He was tryin’a scare me off.”

“It doesn’t seem to have worked.”

“And why do ya think that might be, Ishida?” Grimmjow leaned in, mouth snarling the name to bare pointed teeth.

“Orihime’s disappearance isn’t all that Ichigo and I discussed.” The other man’s gaze was cutting; he wasn’t intimidated. “He  _ also  _ told me—”

The phone in the agent’s pocket sounded off. It was his partner. “Fuck.” He answered.

“Did you not think I would have eyes on them?” The chilly voice incited a panic that gripped Grimmjow’s chest. “Or on  _ you _ , for that matter?”

“What’s the deal with these kids, Cifer? I can’t even talk to ’em?”

“It’s not your concern any longer, Grimmjow. This was your last misjudgment. Goodnight.”

He stared at the screen; the call was over. He scrambled to his feet, knocking over the chair in his haste. “I gotta go.”

“Don’t leave on my account, Agent.” Uryuu regarded the other man with a hint of amusement. “We were just starting to get somewhere with this conversation.”

“Listen, fuck you, kid. I know you and your friends are hidin’ something, and I have a pretty good idea of what it is. Consider yourself lucky that I have bigger fish to fry tonight. I’ll be back eventually. I’m not gonna let this go.” 

“I’ll be waiting.”

Grimmjow’s hand twitched as he suppressed the urge to relocate the insufferable doctor’s glasses to the inside of his skull. He charged the entryway where the man’s father still waited.

The older man pointed toward two large receiving doors. “The closest exit is that way. Keep whatever trouble you’ve found for yourself out of my hospital.”

Throwing open the doors, he found himself in an ambulance bay. He didn’t know how to get back to the garage he had parked in but figured it wasn’t the smart play to drive anyway. His car was fast and loud, in an ostentatious coral blue that was immediately recognizable as his. Instead, he skirted around the building to the rear, looking for a back alley to slip into. 

Locating one, he effortlessly scaled the chain-link fence barricading it. He landed light on his feet and took off, running as fast as he could and choosing forks in his path arbitrarily. He didn’t know who Ulquiorra had assigned to watch him or how close behind they were. The best he could hope for was confusion providing enough leeway to escape his pursuer. He turned a corner and started to vault another, shorter gate when something caught his ankle. He fell over it headfirst, face cracking on the pavement. He tasted blood.

“Sorry about that. I was tired of chasing after you, you see.” 

He recognized the voice from the way it made his hair stand on end. “Luppi.” The grip on his leg twisted violently, flipping him onto his back. He could see now it was a chain whip that had tripped him up.

“Ding ding ding!” The man was smiling, a hellish grin that turned Grimmjow’s stomach. “I told you I’d be the one here at the end, didn’t I? I must say, though, I didn’t expect it to come so soon.”

“And  _ I _ already told  _ you…” _ Grimmjow kicked hard with his unrestrained foot, striking Luppi in the shoulder. This stunned the man, loosening the chain’s grip enough to escape. He pulled his legs down from atop the gate and deftly executed a kip-up. He flicked his hands, releasing titanium claws through the tips of his fingers. “You don’t have a fuckin’ chance, you bastard.”

The smaller man pulled his chain taut between his hands and snapped it several times. “I think it’ll be fun to knock you off your high horse, Jaegerjaquez. I’ve been looking forward to this.”

Grimmjow launched himself at Luppi. His leap cleared the gate with ease and knocked the man to the ground. His hand pressed against the slender throat to pin him down. “Why’d Ulquiorra send a rat like you to do his dirty work? He’s gotta know that unaugmented, you’re no match for me.” Metal pressed against his abdomen, cold on his skin where his t-shirt had ridden up. His eyes widened, and he rolled forward, skidding across the pavement, claws digging in to slow him down.

“He didn’t send me unprepared!” Luppi stood up slowly, brandishing the handgun Grimmjow had felt. “You know what this is, don’t you?”

“He gave you Hierro-piercing bullets… He’s really pissed about these kids, huh?” Shots rang out, flying towards him as he surged to his feet. He scaled the buildings they stood between, jumping from wall to wall to get onto a roof and out of Luppi’s line of sight. Before he could make it to the top, a bullet blew out his knee and his grip faltered. He sunk his claws into the brick, but another shot pierced his shoulder. “Fuck!” He scraped down the side of the building.

“You underestimated me, Jaegerjaquez.” Luppi was wielding his chain in the hand opposite the gun. “That’s the problem with guys like you. You think you’re untouchable. Lucky for you, I’m here to put you in your place!” His whip cracked and wound firm around Grimmjow’s forearm. “I hope you enjoyed being Sexta Espada, because I’m going to tear that title from you myself!”

Grimmjow dug at the binding, but Luppi only tightened its grip. “Like hell am I gonna die to someone like you!” He wrapped his hand over the chain and pulled, dragging the smaller man to him. He threw him into the wall, once again pinning him by the throat. He made sure to restrain the gun. “Won’t fall for that one twice, Princess.”

“How… about… this one?” Luppi choked out. He pressed a button on the handle of the whip, and barbs emerged from the chain that burrowed into Grimmjow’s skin. The gambit gave him enough clearance to duck out of his grasp and get behind him. He shot him again in the thigh, sending the man to his knees. Luppi placed a foot between his shoulder blades and jerked the whip towards himself.

There was a pop as Grimmjow’s shoulder dislocated. “You fucking bastard! I’ll kill you! I’ll fucking kill you!” The contortion of his arm hadn’t stopped, and he could feel it beginning to split where the bullet had already damaged his toughened skin. Slowly at first, then all at once, his arm tore from his body. He screamed, collapsing in a heap.

“Smile for me, Jaegerjaquez.” Luppi had his phone out, presumably to snap a picture of his handiwork. “Sorry it had to go this way. You were just the weakest link.” He stepped over his victim’s crumpled body and walked out of sight.

The man lay broken for a few minutes, listening as the footsteps gradually became quieter. When he didn’t hear them anymore, he rolled onto his back and wrested his phone from the pocket of his jeans. He opened the list of recent calls and dialed one. “Ichigo?” He slurred into the phone.

“Grimmjow?” The voice sounded surprised, or maybe confused.

“You were right. I was ready to just roll over and die. I didn’t think there was any avoidin’ it. But I just got a taste, and…”

“A taste of what? Are you okay?”

“I wanna fight, Ichigo. I don’t wanna die. I won’t let them kill me.”

“What  _ happened _ , Grimmjow?”

“Crossed one line too many, apparently. Asshole ripped my arm off… I’m losing a lot of blood.”

“Where are you?” Ichigo’s tone had become urgent.

“I dunno anymore…” Grimmjow tapped the screen a few times. “I sent you my GPS location.”

“I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“Lookin’ forward to it… kid…” He closed his eyes and passed out. When he came to, two pairs of hands were loading him into the backseat of an unfamiliar car. He saw a flash of orange. “Ichigo…” 

A hand gripping his shoulder squeezed gently. “I’m right here.”

“I wasn’t sure you’d come.” They had laid him on his back, feet on the floor and head resting in the smaller man’s lap. He felt dimly like he was floating.

“If I let you die, how would I kick your ass for talking to my friends after I told you not to?” Ichigo reached with his other hand to wipe blood out of Grimmjow’s eye. “Besides, it’s really Yoruichi you should thank. She’s the one with the car.”

“Yo… Yoruichi?” He struggled to turn his head towards the driver, squinting at long, dark hair, then a glimmer of golden irises. He could’ve sworn they were the eyes of a cat. “Yoruichi  _ Shihouin _ ?”

Ichigo shushed him. “It’s okay, Grimm. You’re safe with us, I promise. Things aren’t the way you think they are. But don’t worry about that right now. There’ll be time to explain later, tonight you just gotta survive.” He stopped talking for a moment, perhaps because the eyelids of the man in his lap had drooped. “Hey. Grimm! You hear that?” He patted his face. “You’re not gonna die on me, alright?”

Without opening his eyes, Grimmjow chuckled. “Grimm, huh? That’s real cute, kid.”

“Shut the hell up, idiot.” The harsh words didn’t match the softness of the voice.

He continued drifting in and out of consciousness, catching snippets of conversation and flashes of street lights in the window.  _ You remembered to destroy his phone, right? Do I look like a fucking moron? Of course I did! Are you sure he’ll still be on our side when he wakes up? They did this to him, Yo. He knows he can’t go back to them now. Are you okay? Yeah, I just… He looks bad... What if he can’t save him? You have to trust in him, Ichigo. In both of them.  _

They stopped moving, and suddenly he was being lifted out of the backseat and onto a gurney. A scruffy blonde man in a striped bucket hat peered over him. “Well, that’s no good.” He stepped out of Grimmjow’s fading vision. “Ichigo, why do you always have to bring the worst cases to me?”

“Where else was I supposed to bring him?”

“Oh, I don’t know, you’re only a med student working for your father’s clinic, friends with a resident at the local hospital  _ his _ father runs.”

“He’s one of Aizen’s. Already enhanced. A regular doctor isn’t gonna cut it.”

The man was back at his bedside, a crooked smile on his face. “My, my, that certainly changes things, doesn’t it? You’re in excellent hands here, Mr. Blue. Don’t you worry about a thing.”


	4. Chapter 4

Grimmjow awoke to a dimly lit room. His body felt heavy and his mind clouded. He blinked a few times to clear his blurry vision. As his surroundings came into focus, panic set in. He didn’t recognize the place, couldn’t remember how he got here or why he felt so awful. His eyes darted around, searching for understanding when— _ oh _ . His breath caught, air fleeing his lungs like he had been kicked in the chest. 

Ichigo slumped in a chair in the corner, sleeping upright with his arms crossed and head tipped forward. Ichigo—he remembered hearing his voice in the car, remembered calling him in the alley, bleeding, pain, his arm, his  _ arm _ . He tried to reach up to rip the blanket off his chest, but his body was still too dull, wasn’t responding. He attempted to make a fist instead. Right hand… he could feel that, muscles contracting, tips of fingers meeting palm. Left hand… no, that wasn’t right, didn’t feel right. He couldn’t tell if he was moving, couldn’t find purchase with his fingers.

His eyes darted back to the man sleeping in the corner. “Ichigo…” His voice was hoarse. His throat felt dry. He tried again. “Hey Ichigo!”

Ichigo’s head snapped up, his eyes suddenly wide open. “Grimmjow!” He clambered to his feet, at the bedside in an instant. “How are you feeling?”

“My arm…”

His eyebrows knit together. “You don’t remember what happened?”

“Kinda. Details ’re foggy.”

The silence that followed was uncomfortably long. Ichigo stared at him, maybe even studied him, tension all over his face. After what felt like a lifetime, he took a steadying breath. “It wasn’t with you in the alley. Synthetic was the best he could do.” 

“What? I don’t feel…” Grimmjow trailed off, unsure how to explain the unfamiliar sensation.

“You won’t feel it, not for a few days. The severed nerve endings have to—”

He was reeling now, felt the world fall away, like he was sinking to the bottom of an endless chasm with Ichigo at the mouth shouting down to him. 

“—new connections with——fibers. The brain needs——adapt pathways——too. It’ll take——physical therapy——full function.”

His ears filled with the sound of rushing blood. He was vaguely aware of a hand on his shoulder shaking him, of the cacophony of screaming monitors, of another man whisking in to peer down from beyond the abyss. Warmth engulfed his body, then a taste in his mouth of something too clean, and he was gone again.   
  


* * *

  
When he came to the second time, Grimmjow felt much more lucid. He noticed a small light in his periphery; Ichigo was still in the same chair in the corner, awake now. He sat with legs criss-crossed, laptop balanced on his thighs, fingers rapidly clacking at keys. Cute. “What’cha doin’?”

Ichigo jumped slightly, then looked over at him. The lines of worry on his face appeared deepened by the light of the screen. “Residency application essay.” He gently closed the lid of his computer, setting it aside, and approached the bed. “You feeling better?” He asked tentatively, wearing a half-hearted smile.

“Your bedside manner sucks, kid. You look this worried in front of an actual patient, it’ll scare the shit out of ’em.”

Ichigo’s smile turned genuine for the tiniest moment, then shifted to a scowl. “I’m not your doctor, dumbass, I can be however worried I want.”

“Yeah, well, where is the bastard, then? I have some fuckin’ questions.”

A muscle tensed in Ichgio’s neck. “I was hoping you and I could talk first.” His words were tight, measured.

“About what?”

“What happened to you, and why.”

“Oh.” Grimmjow looked away.  _ Still don’t trust me, Ichigo?  _ His words rang in his ears, but he wouldn’t repeat them.

“I just need to hear it, Grimm.” Ichigo caught his jaw with lithe fingers, coaxing him into eye contact. “I just need to hear it, and I can tell you everything.”

Blue eyes poured over brown ones, drinking them in, lost in them, until a machine beeped and startled Grimmjow to his senses. He jerked his jaw free from the grasp. “I was given orders, and I disobeyed.” He steeled his expression as the hand pulled away from his face. “It was the last straw. Sent the asshole who thinks he’s gonna be the new Sexta to get rid’a me. He loaded me full’a bullets and tore my arm off. Then I called you.”

“The guy who did this to you is your replacement?”

“Yeah, pro’lly some kinda sick initiation test, knowing the Director.”

“What’s his name?”

“Luppi…” He closed his eyes, scraping the edges of his mind. “Luppi Antenor, I think. Wouldn’t be too worried about ’im though. They gotta augment him before he’ll officially be made an Espada. It’ll be a couple weeks before he’s a threat.”

Ichigo nodded but seemed far away, as if he was thinking more than he was listening. His lips were pressed thin, teeth grinding. Then he spoke the question he’d been holding back. “What were the orders?”

“I was told to stay away from you and your friends. I talked to Ishida anyway. They were watching.”

His face pinched tight with confusion. “Why would they give you an order like that?”

Grimmjow shrugged, surprised when his shoulders responded. “I asked my partner to do background checks on all’a ya. He’s usually the one you want doin’ ’em, finds the real buried shit, y’know? But he didn’t bring me any of that, didn’t bring me anything at all. Just told me to leave you alone. Even mentioned  _ you _ by name, and I didn’t ask him about you.”

Orange eyebrows disappeared under choppy bangs, brown eyes gone wide.

“Yeah, I wasn’t a big fan of that one either.” A growl caught in his throat. “I left ya out on purpose, and he knew it.”

Ichigo sighed, pressing a middle finger and thumb into a temple each. “Which one is he?”

Grimmjow didn’t need to ask what he meant. “Cuatro.”

“I’ll let Yoruichi know.”

“She how you got my file?” A quick nod came as a reply. “You gonna tell me about all that now?”

Sighing again, louder this time, Ichigo dragged his hand down his face to rest at his collarbone. “You’re not gonna pass out on me again, are you...” A smile tugged at his lips. “Old man?”

“Old man? I’ll show you old ma—” Grimmjow tried to sit up in protest, but it was too much too soon. His head was pounding, and his shoulder was on fire. He fell back against the pillows, defeated. He huffed.

Ichigo eyed the monitors anxiously, but seemed appeased by whatever he saw. “Don’t hurt yourself after all the work we did putting you back together, moron.” 

“’M fine,” Grimmjow grumbled, not liking being clucked over. “And I’m not gonna pass out. Just want answers.”

“Honestly, Grimm, I don’t even know where to start.”

“Well, ya obviously took me to your buddy Urahara’s secret murder bunker, so how ’bout you start with him?”

“ _ Murder bunker _ ?!”

“No windows? Underground. Where else could you hide a facility like this for so long? C’mon, Ich, I lost my arm, not my brain.”

“Bunker was not the word I was objecting to. And who the hell said you could give me a nickname?”

“Would ya rather I go back to ‘kid’?” The glare he elicited from the younger man made Grimmjow smirk. “Besides, you started it with your li’l ‘Grimm’ shit.”

“Not my fault your name is like a mile long,” Ichigo muttered, almost pouting. He rubbed the back of his neck as his expression softened. “He’s not a bad guy, Urahara. Weird, and a little crazy maybe, but not a murderer.”

“Yeah, I’m sure the Visoreds would’a left him rave reviews if they didn’t disappear.”

“That wasn’t his fault, what happened to them. Your boss did that.”

“Aizen? He was just a regular Seireitei agent back when that shit went down.”

“Yeah, but he had his eyes on  _ power _ , even then. He thought enhancement was his ticket to it. He wanted to experiment with the AI system programmed to help with the surgeries. The Hougyoku, Urahara called it. Aizen broke in before the Visoreds were scheduled for their augmentations and used the Hougyoku on them himself. And then he let Urahara take the fall for it.”

“So what happened to them, then?”

“Urahara did what he could to fix the damage Aizen did. They’re kinda like you now with the way they’re augmented. They’re hiding out in a place of their own. Central 46 wanted them put down. Said it was the most ‘humane’ course of action.”

“The government was gonna  _ execute  _ them? How the fuck is that humane?”

Ichigo shrugged. “They thought the Visoreds had been turned into monsters, like they weren’t even human anymore. Urahara, Tessai, and Yoruichi got them out before they could follow through with it.”

“Shit. That’s heavy.” As he tried to process the new information, Grimmjow’s eyes settled on his body for the first time since his surgery. The blanket had been thrown off when he’d sat up, exposing his new arm. He could see sutures at his shoulder, but that was the only indication anything was amiss. He reached over to touch it. It was warm, hairy even. It was not what he’d been expecting. “Your friend Chad’s work didn’t look like this.”

“His immune system keeps rejecting the artificial skin. Your skin is already entirely artificial. With a tissue sample, Urahara could derive enough for the surgery.”

“That’s pretty impressive.”

“Oh, stoooop, you’re making me blush!” A singsong voice drifted in from the doorway. It was the blonde man from the night of the attack, flapping a folding fan in mock embarrassment. Urahara, Grimmjow knew now. “You look better than the last time I saw you.” 

“I was kinda bleeding out.”

“I was referring to your crash last night.” In the meager light, his striped hat cast an eerie shadow on the man’s face. “You must have been worse than I thought if you didn’t notice me come in. I had to administer a sedative. Ichigo telling you about your limb reconstruction spiked your vitals, very dangerous after surgery.” He tutted in disapproval.

“Should I be worried?”

“We acted quickly. You should make a full recovery.”

There was something in his eyes that Grimmjow still couldn’t bring himself to trust. “Can I ask ya somethin’, doc?”

“It’d be best to save any questions about the reconstruction until you’re more stable, just to be safe.”

“It’s actually about the case I was on.” He felt Ichigo tense at his side.

Urahara brought the fan in front of his face, concealing everything except for those uncanny eyes. “You want to know about Orihime.”

“Did she really work for you?”

“She was being trained, yes. She wanted to help Sado with his recovery, and when she saw the good we do here, asked to continue assisting me.”

“And you had nothin’ to do with her disappearance?”

“Grimmjow!” Ichigo hissed.

“It’s alright, Ichigo. I know how it must look.”

“If she talked,” Grimmjow clarified, “it would’a meant trouble for you.”

Urahara chuckled from behind the veil of his fan. “You’re not wrong. But I trust Orihime enough to know she wouldn’t give me away. She wants to help people. We help people. It’s as simple as that.”

“Who would’a taken her, then? Who else would’a known she was being escorted to the Seireitei?”

“The same man responsible for the tip. Aizen. How he found out she was working here, I don’t know, but I believe he planted it to force her into a vulnerable position.”

“That’s a hell of a leap.”

“It’s not the first time he’s targeted one of my assistants.”

“And why’d he wanna do that?”

“He has a copy of my Hougyoku AI in his possession, but he needs help to fully utilize it, especially on himself.”

“What happened to the last one he targeted? Must’a ended poorly if he still needed Orihime, no?”

“That’s not my story to tell, Mr. Blue.” Urahara snapped the fan shut, revealing a grin plastered to his face. It felt insincere. “I’m glad you’re doing better, but I have other patients to tend to.” The man slipped out of the room, the door falling shut behind him.

Hearing heavy breaths at his side, Grimmjow turned to Ichigo. His face was deep crimson, a vein bulging in his forehead and his eyes fierce. “What. A. Fucking.  _ Asshole _ .” He paced the length of the bed. “Why do  _ I  _ have to explain it?” His complaints were snarled under his breath, yet not faintly enough to go unheard. “He doesn’t have other patients. He didn’t want anyone else here! He even sent Jinta and Ururu to Shinji.”

“Ichigo?”

“He could’ve just said it. He knows how hard this is for me. Why is he being such a dick?”

“ _ Ichigo _ !” Grimmjow’s shout disrupted the furor, stopping him mid-stride, shoulders up like a startled animal. “If you don’t wanna tell me, you don’t hafta.”

“No, it’s—I don’t—” Ichigo sputtered, anger evidently still clouding his thoughts. He breathed deep, face relaxing slightly. “Grimm, it’s not that I don’t  _ want _ to, I just—”

“It’s okay. It doesn’t matter anymore. It’s not like I can go back to work after what they did. I’m off the case.”

“What? What about Orihime?”

“I don’t have access to the department’s resources anymore, and I should prolly lie low anyway ’cause they’ll try to finish the job if they find out I’m alive. What am I s’posed to do?”

Ichigo collapsed into the chair in the corner. With an elbow on the armrest, he laid his head in his hand. “Fuck,” he breathed.

“Ich... I’m really sorry...”

“Don’t be. You’re right. It’s dangerous for you to be out there.” He leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes. “It was my mom. Urahara’s previous assistant.”

His mom? Grimmjow remembered reading something about her from the files he’d received from Rukia. A mugging, maybe. Whatever it was had resulted in her death, that much he was sure. “Is that how she…?” He didn’t want to say it, afraid it’d upset Ichigo.

“Yeah.”

As he looked at the man in the dim light and saw the sadness in his face, Grimmjow remembered something else from that report. Ichigo, a teenager at the time, had witnessed her death. Aizen had killed a mother in front of her son. That’s the kind of man Ichigo knew had his friend. Grimmjow couldn’t just let that go. “I’ll need your help to find Orihime.”

Ichigo’s eyes fluttered open. “What?”

“You’ll hafta go out there to gather information for me. Report back here and I can put together the pieces.”

“You still want to help?”

“You saved my life, Ich. And that bastard Aizen has it coming.”

Ichigo smiled softly, his eyes misty. “Then I think I know where we could start…” He leaned forward, rubbing his jaw pensively. “You should see my memories of that night.”

“The night Orihime disappeared?”

“The night my mom was murdered.”


	5. Chapter 5

Their path through Urahara’s facility snaked down several winding hallways and secure elevators as Grimmjow limped after Ichigo. He'd only seen a fraction of the expansive underground hospital, but the place was still impressive. Though he’d been here for over a week, he hadn’t had cause to venture beyond his room, the cafeteria, and the physical therapy gym. He was grateful for the change of pace yet nervous about their destination.

Ichigo had explained it to him: a neural uplink station where they could explore each other’s memories with complete sense detail. He said it would only share what they chose to share, but it still made him uneasy to think about Ichigo getting inside his head. There were too many dark corners of his mind he was afraid to shine a light on. It felt egotistical of him, to be so concerned about himself when Ichigo was about to show him what must be one of his deepest traumas.

They finally came to a stop in front of a large bay door, and Ichigo placed a forearm under a protruding ledge. A green rectangle of light beamed onto his wrist, defining a pattern of veins. Grimmjow recognized it as a vascular scanner, similar to one he’d used as an Espada. The machine beeped in approval, and the doors rolled open. Inside was a room filled with rows of server towers, several floor-to-ceiling display monitors, and a tangle of cables across the floor. Ichigo gently tugged the other man in by the wrist as the doors shut behind them. 

He threw open a cabinet near the towers to retrieve two small boxes. Opening one, he tilted it toward Grimmjow for him to see. It looked like a small, mechanical bug. “They crawl in through your sinuses for direct access to the brain. Feels kinda gross, but it’s quick.” He closed the box again and waved Grimmjow through a final door into a cavernous but empty room. The floor, ceiling, and walls were all slate gray, with strips of lights recessed into the surfaces. “It helps to have a clear space. Learned that the hard way when Urahara was still prototyping and I ate shit tripping on cables I didn’t know were there.”

“Ya helped him with the prototype? Known him a long time, then?”

“My entire life. He and my parents were friends before I was even born. He was a kid genius, used his early enhancement technology to save my mom’s life when they were all still in high school. They never forgot that.”

“Sounds like he’s a pretty good guy.” Grimmjow wondered why, then, the blonde made him so uneasy. 

“I owe him everything. I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for him. I wouldn’t be able to protect what I care about.” Ichigo handed one box to his companion. “Here.” He lifted the lid on the one still in his hand. “Press this button here to wake it up.” Doing as he explained, the box lit up and the bug popped out, twitching. “Then you just kinda—” He grabbed it by a spindly metal leg and held it next to his face. “Put it by your nose, and they’ll know what to do.”

Grimmjow watched with a grimace as the tiny machine jumped to Ichigo’s upper lip and crawled inside his nostril. Ichigo’s face scrunched up for a few seconds, then he stuck his tongue out and shuddered. “Yeah, wow, you make that look so pleasant, Ich. Can’t wait.”

“Oh, don’t be such a baby. If you can handle losing your arm, you can handle this.”

He looked down at the still limp reminder of the incident. He could feel it now, could tell when things were touching it, but the mobility wasn’t there yet. The best he had managed was making a fist and wiggling his fingers. Tessai, who supervised his physical therapy, claimed his progress was on-track, but it wasn’t reassuring. Grimmjow hated feeling vulnerable, but with a dead limb and a stiff knee, it was hard to feel anything but. “Whatever.” He pressed the button and brought the box to his face, letting the bug jump out at him. An instinctive snarl escaped through bared teeth as the machine settled into his skull.

“See, that wasn’t so hard,” Ichigo teased. He took both empty containers and placed them in his back pocket. “Let’s start with an easier memory, just so you can get used to this, okay?”

“Okay…”

“How about the day we met? Since you have your own memories from that day, it should be a little easier for you to pick up.” 

The surrounding room began to shift, walls closing in, developing a bright, painted color. Grimmjow noticed a banister and stairs to his right; they were on the second floor. Then he heard something hitting glass. A vague, translucent image of Ichigo stalked down the hallway, slamming open a door and entering the room. He looked to his left where the real Ichigo stood.

“The bugs tap into the neurons to create this sort of… virtual reality effect, developing 3D models from the spatial awareness stored in memories.”

Grimmjow could see that through the doorway, Memory Ichigo was yelling out of a window, presumably down to where he and Rukia stood. He watched as the image shut the window and strode towards him, bringing a strange wave of irritation over him, along with a pit of anxious nausea. “Are those...  _ your _ feelings?”

“Memory is directly tied to emotion.” Ichigo waved to follow the memory down the stairs. “The stronger the emotion, the more clearly it can be remembered. ” 

They stepped outside, where much more defined versions of Rukia and Grimmjow stood. He mused that the simulated Ichigo must be vague because the memory only had a feeling of what he’d looked like, a side effect of rendering a first-person view in third-person.

_ “What is SO important that you had to interrupt me while I’m working?” _ Memory Ichigo bellowed.

_ “Ichigo…” _

There was a sorrow in Rukia’s eyes, Grimmjow could see now. A sudden panic gripped his chest, muscles screaming to brace for an oncoming blow. A strike to the gut. No… To the heart, an emotional wound. “You knew… I thought ya just realized it was bad news, but you knew exactly what we were gonna tell you.”

“I didn’t want her working here. I knew it would put her in danger.” The real Ichigo tightened a fist at his side. “He wouldn’t listen.”

_ “It’s your friend, Orihime. She’s missing—taken, we think.” _ It was strange, Grimmjow thought, to hear his voice come from someone else. He studied his memory counterpart.

_ “Taken by  _ who _?” _

_ “Well, we were hoping you might know somethin’ about that.” _ He looked good. Almost  _ too _ good. His hair was softer, his teeth sharper, his eyes brighter.

_ “What’s this even got to do with you anyway, Mister ‘Hueco Mundo Intelligence’? One missing person seems a little below your pay grade, no?” _

_ “The name’s Grimmjow.” _ He was positive he didn’t tailor his shirts that tightly. His muscles looked seconds away from causing a burst seam.  _ “You’re not wrong though, kid. They wouldn’ta dragged me out just to find your friend.”  _ Is this how Ichigo saw him? He chuckled. No wonder the kid kept getting so flustered.

_ “Kid? I’m fucking 26!” _

“What’s so funny?” Ichigo snapped at the same time as his copy.

“I’m just enjoyin’ the view into your mind.”

His eyes shied away, scowling petulantly as a blush painted his ears. 

_ “Sure, whatever, doesn’t matter.”  _ The other Grimmjow waved his hand dismissively. _ “What’s important is I’ve got two dead cops and your li’l Orihime has suspected ties to a wanted man.” _

“Is this… verbatim? Your memory’s that good?”

“I’ve had a lot of practice training it. The one of my mom… it won’t be quite like this.”

_ “Wanted man...?”  _ The atmosphere was angry now, the air sharp and tinted red.  _ “Rukia, what the hell is this guy on about?” _ Who sold Orihime out, why didn’t Urahara listen to him, when will Aizen be  _ stopped _ ? The questions flooded into Grimmjow’s mind as they’d had to Ichigo.

_ “He’s telling the truth.We were bringing her in for questioning, but…”  _ Rukia shook her head. _ “She never made it to my office, and the men who were escorting her were killed.”  _

_ “What’d you get her wrapped up in this time?”  _ When the faint Ichigo spat this line, he saw a flash of Urahara’s face over Rukia’s shoulder. He hadn’t really blamed her, Grimmjow understood, he’d just been overcome with the emotion.

_ “ _ I _ had nothing to do with it! I got a tip line call that she was working for  _ Kisuke Urahara _. What else could I have done?” _

_ “You  _ could _ have just fucking ignored it, like she would have done for you.” _ The voice of the memory rang in his ears, much louder than it was said.

_ “You know I can’t do that! I’d lose my job!” _

_ “If your job put Orihime in danger, then maybe it was a shitty fucking job in the first place!”  _ Urahara ghosted behind Rukia again.

_ “That is not fair, Ichigo.”  _ Tears had welled in her eyes.  _ “You know perfectly well that I have been doing everything in my power to protect her. I am sorry that it wasn’t enough, but you cannot put this only on me.” _

The air turned from sharp to cold, squeezing from Grimmjow’s lungs and leaving him breathless. Guilt.  _ “You’re right. I’m sorry. What do we do now?” _

_ “Now, you tell us what you know about Urahara so Intelligence can find him and rescue Orihime.” _

_ “You think  _ he  _ took her?” _

_ “Who else could it have been?” _

Ichigo’s ghost held its tongue, making panicked eye contact with the fake Espada. The image winked, and Grimmjow felt a flutter in his chest. He laughed again at how easy it had been to excite Ichigo.  _ “You know something, don’tcha—” _

“Okay, that’s enough.” Ichigo cut off the memory, the plain walls and empty room returning.

Grimmjow grinned, running a tongue along his teeth. “We didn’t get to the best part.”

Ichigo avoided his gaze. “What ‘best part’?”

He pushed the memory through the neural link. The street in front of Kurosaki Clinic rematerialized, but their memory counterparts had moved. A ghostly copy of himself had the younger man trapped against his car. He grabbed Ichigo’s chin and pointed his face toward the scene. “This.” His image pressed in closer, and suddenly Ichigo pushed back with his own version of the events.

“If you really wanna see so bad,” he whispered, “then here.” He clung to the wrist in front of him.

With the scenery becoming fuzzy, Grimmjow felt a pressure from behind and hot, wet breath in his ear.  _ “You got that?” _ He heard himself growl, guttural and low. The back of his neck tingled, and the sound of blood rushed his ears, drowning out the next words he’d spoken. He smirked. “Ya can’t remember what I said.”

“You were distracting me.” There was something playful in Ichigo’s eyes, something Grimmjow was captivated by. Something he wanted to see more of.

“After all yer ‘training’? What was so...?” Grimmjow knew the answer to his question before he finished asking when he felt something rub against his backside, hard and long. It can’t have been what it felt like, or it wouldn’t have surprised him. He barked a laugh when he realized. “My  _ gun _ .”

“What?” The confidence that Ichigo had just displayed was gone, all timid embarrassment now.

“I put my thigh between your legs so ya didn’t run. You felt my holster.”

His cheeks flushed, and he tried to turn away, but Grimmjow maintained his grip. They linked eyes for a moment, then crushed their lips together, bruisingly urgent. Ichigo melted into the other man, weight falling heavy on the arm grasping his jaw, lips parting in hurried invitation. Grimmjow obliged, tongue crawling over teeth and palate. Ichigo sucked gently on the intruding appendage before pulling away, breath heavy and thick in the air. 

“That is  _ not _ what we came here for,” he gasped.

“Sorry.” A sharp grin said the opposite. “Didn’t mean to cause another  _ distraction _ .” Grimmjow whispered the final word against Ichigo’s ear and released his face, taking a step back. “You gonna be able to focus?”

“Yeah, just… gimme a minute.” Ichigo turned away from him and closed his eyes for a moment before cracking one open, sneaking a sideways glance at Grimmjow. “Was that—do you—” He squeezed the rogue eye shut in embarrassment. “Are we gonna continue that at some point?”

“Yer the one who stopped.” 

“Is that a yes?”

“Obviously.”

Ichigo’s mouth ticked up in a smirk, apparently appeased enough to continue. He squared off his stance, arms crossed and chin tucked in. Like a ship anchoring during a storm. His chest rose and fell in even, measured beats. Grimmjow closed his eyes as well, focusing ultrasonic hearing until he could detect Ichigo’s heart rate, listening to it steadily lowering. Both pairs of lashes fluttered open in sync. “Alright. I got it.” He looked back to Grimmjow. “Are you sure  _ you’re _ ready? This is gonna hurt.”

“I can handle myself just fine.”

“If you say so.”

The surrounding area darkened, rain falling from the sky. Grimmjow could feel it hit his skin and dampen his hair. The sky flashed bright, then thunder rumbled too fast, too close. They were in an open street running alongside a canal. On the sidewalk was a ghostly Ichigo carrying a hefty paper bag and an umbrella. Next to him was a slight woman with flowing strawberry locks, two smaller plastic bags in tow.

“We’d gotten takeout for everyone on our way home from Urahara’s. I used to visit after school to help with some of his weirder devices. Like this one.” 

The images of Ichigo and his mother exchanged sounds, feelings, laughter, but not words. A car drove by, all black and vague, displacing a wall of water toward the sidewalk. The memory of Ichigo sidestepped to block his mother from the splash when his eyes narrowed as he looked out at the water’s edge. Grimmjow followed the line of sight, then he was rushed with the feeling of the ground falling out from under him. A young girl in a traditional dress stood on the banks, looking distraught. He recognized that illusion. “Grand Fisher.” The girl jumped into the water, and the ghostly Ichigo foisted his cargo onto his mother, leaping over the rails. 

“You know him?”

“Worked with ’im a few times before I made Sexta. Never liked this li’l schtick of his.”

The image bounded down the grassy bank, but as he prepared to dive after the girl, a scream pierced the air from behind him. He whipped around, and Grimmjow then saw a hulking man cloaked in shadow, a woman tossed over his shoulder.

“How does he do it? I’ve watched it a million times, but I can’t—” Ichigo’s voice cracked.

“Black market mod. Lotta guys in Intelligence have ’em, but they’re useful so SACs usually look the other way. His, he vibrates his larynx to make a high-pitched sound. Beyond normal hearin’ range but still induces hallucinations. Real backhanded shit, if ya ask me.”

_ “Stay back, Ichigo!”  _ His mother cried.  _ “Please, I don’t want you to get hurt!” _

_ “You know I can’t do that, Mom. I won’t let him take you.” _

Ichigo let out a pained gasp, and the gray walls faded back in. Grimmjow looked over to him to see the other man with a hand over his mouth, his eyes avoidant. He took a step towards him, and Ichigo flinched. Grimmjow put his functioning hand up in a placating gesture. He took another step forward to no resistance, so he closed the remaining gap, wrapping his arm around him. Ichigo buried his face into Grimmjow’s shoulder as the man whispered shushes against his crown. 

“I’m sorry,” he choked out, muffled by fabric. “I thought I could do this.”

“Ya don’t hafta be sorry,” Grimmjow breathed into orange locks. “I get it.” He massaged small circles into Ichigo’s back. “But eventually ya gotta forgive yourself, Ich. Ya gotta let go of the guilt. It’ll eat you alive.”

“That’s a lot easier said than done.”

“I know.” He pulled back to look the other man in the eye. “I  _ know _ . I’m still learning. But you gotta try, alright? And I’ll keep tryin’, too.”

With hands fisted in Grimmjow’s t-shirt, Ichigo looked up at him. He searched his face, studying, trying to find the words to the questions he was afraid to speak. All he could manage, he asked. “Who?”

“My partner. Used to be Tres Espada. Her name’s Nel.”

“Will you… show me?”

Every muscle in Grimmjow’s body tensed at the thought of opening up, of being vulnerable, and to Ichigo of all people. He stared back at the man, returning the intense gaze he had just withstood. There was a sadness there, but also something else. He was afraid. Grimmjow hated that, hated that he must be the cause. He never wanted Ichigo to fear him or anything else again. He steeled himself and nodded his head. “Yeah. Yeah, I can show you.” 

Ichigo took his limp hand in both of his own. “Maybe Nel’s still out there. Maybe I can help you, too.”

Grimmjow snorted at that. He hadn’t let anyone help him in a long time. Maybe, he thought, it was time for that to change.


	6. Chapter 6

When the neural link finished rendering and he stood face-to-face with its recreation of his former partner, Grimmjow’s claws twitched under his skin. A feral instinct to gnash and shred the bastards who fractured his pack. A hand enveloped his and squeezed, stilling the spasms.

“I’m right here for you, okay?”

He squeezed back a thank you, hoping Ichigo would understand without words. He rolled the tension from his shoulders, and let the memory play out.

 _“But Grimmjooooooooow!”_ Nel whined like a petulant child with a pout to match. She leaned forward on her hands where they rested on his desk.

 _“I’m busy.”_ A shadow of himself tipped back in his chair with arms crossed, heels resting on the papers spread in front of them. _“Can’t the Brothers Dim help you?”_

“Who’s that?” Ichigo whispered.

“The Brothers Dim? Her Fracción, Pesche and Dondochakka. Most Espada have lower ranked Intelligence that help ’em with cases.”

 _“You don’t_ look _very busy.”_ Nel sat down on his desk and flicked the sole of his shoe. _“Besides, they’re coming with me. I need someone here to monitor the signal in case we need back-up.”_

His ghost groaned, arms falling limp behind him. _“Fine. But you owe me food.”_

She rolled her eyes but reached into the collar of her sweater dress and pulled out a wad of cash. She flicked out a few bills, tossing them on the desk. _“Get me dessert?”_

The image wrinkled his nose. _“That’s nasty, Nel. I can smell the sweat from here.”_

Ichigo gagged audibly. “Are your senses like that all the time?”

“Pretty much. Ya get used to it”

_“I don’t have any pockets! Where else am I supposed to keep it?”_

_“I dunno, a purse like every other woman?”_

Nel huffed as she dropped her feet to the floor and hopped off the desk. _“Other women don’t have to fight like I do. A purse gets in the way.”_

_“Maybe I’ll getcha a fanny pack for yer birthday, then.”_

She laughed, clear and bright, the sound lingering in the air. _“Make sure it's cute, at least.”_

As he watched her leave their office for what Grimmjow knew would be the last time, a whispered conversation drifted in through the open door. Had he heard Nel’s name? Brows furrowed and eyes closed, he pulled at the corners of his mind, trying to sharpen whatever was said. The voices were so familiar, _too_ familiar, but he couldn't put names to the sounds.

At his side, Ichigo choked again. “Why does it smell like formalin in here?”

“Formalin?”

“It’s a tissue preservative. Really distinctive smell, takes me right back to anatomy dissections.”

Grimmjow’s eyes snapped open. “It’s Szayel. One of those voices, didja hear ’em? He’s our medical examiner.”

“Yeah, that would definitely explain it. Is that important?”

“I think they were whisperin’ about Nel. It’s hard to make out, I wasn’t really payin’ attention back then.”

“Focus on one of your other senses. Sometimes that sharpens the memory.”

“Like what?”

Ichigo nodded toward the glass. “Maybe you saw something out there that’d help?”

After scanning the office floor, Grimmjow’s eyes came to rest on a head of pink hair. The man he was talking to had his back to them, wearing a jacket with the hood up, but there was no mistaking him. “Fuckin’ Nnoitra.”

“What?”

Grimmjow pointed in the scheming Espada’s direction. “The giant freak show over there. Usually enhancements are s’posed to be more inconspicuous than that, but he’s all stealth so it didn’t really matter for him, I guess.”

“He's gotta be, what, seven foot? How good at stealth can he even be?”

He snorted. “I dunno, never worked with the guy. He didn’t like Nel and Ulquiorra didn’t like _him_ , so…” Grimmjow shrugged his shoulders.

“He’s an Espada?”

“They both are. Szayel not ’til after this, though.”

“So one of them didn’t like her, and the other one got promoted after she went missing? Sounds suspect to me.”

“I was thinkin’ the same thing. Let’s see if we can’t figure out what they were whisperin’ about.” Watching the two conspirators, he wound back the memory until Nel was once again in their office. As time moved forward, Szayel’s mouth moved only in indistinct shapes. He hadn’t been focusing enough at the time to be able to read his lips now. When the door opened, however, the whispered words came into focus as he fixated on Szayel’s face. 

_“Here she comes. Do you have the device?”_ Nnoitra’s reply remained muffled. _“I’ll keep tabs on dear Nelliel’s movements for you from here.”_ As Nel crossed the spacious floor, the towering, hooded man slinked after her. 

Nails dug into the palm of Grimmjow’s hand as he clenched his fist, deep enough to draw blood. His teeth grinding against each other reverberated in his head as his periphery faded away. A year’s worth of rage, of guilt, of mourning laser-focused his attention on his target, the catalyst of it all. His body tensed, poised to attack, when a steadying hand gripped his arm.

“Breathe, Grimm,” Ichigo’s voice urged from the blackness of Grimmjow’s tunnel vision. “He’s not here. Deep breaths.” 

The man complied, squeezing his eyes shut and counting inhales and exhales. One, two, three, four. Two, two, three, four. His shoulders dropped out of their offensive position, and he fell to his knees. When he opened his eyes, Ichigo was right there in front of him.

“I think we’ve both had enough for today.” He reached out and placed a hand to Grimmhow’s face. “Thank you for trusting me with that.”

“How do we get these fuckin’ bugs outta our heads?”

Ichigo laughed with an infectious warmth that tugged at the corner of Grimmjow's lips. “Same way they went in, unfortunately.”

“Wish you would’a told me that before.”

“No way.” He gave a quick peck to the other cheek, pulling back with a wily grin. “I wanted you to actually use the thing, Grimm.”  
  


* * *

  
Sprawled on the couch in his new room, his left arm flopped over a sleeping Ichigo, Grimmjow watched the TV with rapt attention. It was playing a big cat documentary, the current segment covering jaguars in the Amazon. The camera followed a male as he stalked a caiman swimming in the river, preparing to strike from the treeline. He dove into the water, latching his jaw onto the back of the caiman’s head. His canines pierced through the temporal bones and drove into the brain, ending the struggle near instantaneously. Grimmjow swiped a tongue across his teeth as he watched the jaguar carry away his prey. 

Ichigo stirred against his shoulder, orange hair tickling his neck. He arched his back in a stretch and groaned as stiff muscles loosened. A hand that had been resting on Grimmjow’s chest slid up to grip the side of his neck as Ichigo kissed a line down his jaw.

“Nature docs get you goin’, Ich?”

“Had a nice dream. Made me think it was a good time to continue what we started earlier,” he whispered into Grimmjow’s ear. “Do you disagree?” He pulled the lobe into his mouth and worried it between his teeth.

The guttural rumble of pleasure Grimmjow let out was reminiscent of a purr. “Not at all,” he breathed.

Ichigo threw a knee over him, straddling his lap, and laced their mouths together. The hand on his neck was harsh, desperately digging into flesh, as his other fingers skated under Grimmjow’s shirt, teasing across his ribs.

Grimmjow bit down on Ichigo’s bottom lip, suckling at the blood released, before latching his teeth in the crook of his neck. As the spot was nursed into a bruise, Ichigo moaned and ground his hips into the other man’s lap. His jeans rubbed through the thin fabric of Grimmjow's sweatpants, riling his growing erection. He relinquished Ichigo’s neck, placing his forehead against his shoulder to catch a breath, and bucked up to chase more contact. 

“Fuck,” he choked out, embarrassed at how hard he was from mere clothed rutting. It had been months since he’d touched someone like this, since he’d been touched like this. A finger slipped into his waistband and he panicked, grabbing Ichigo by the wrist.

“You don’t want that?” His tone was curious, one orange eyebrow cocked in a question.

Looking down at where his left arm had landed after Ichigo climbed into his lap, Grimmjow felt his face heat up. “It’s not that, I just…” When Ichigo followed his gaze, he wiggled his fingers feebly. “I’m not exactly at my best right now, Ich. I don’t wanna disappoint.”

Ichigo kissed lightly at the shell of his ear. “So just let me make you feel good, and you can return the favor when you're ready.”

Grimmjow hesitated for a moment before yielding the captured wrist, moving his hand to instead knead the inside of Ichigo’s thigh. “Okay. But you should get to feel good, too.”

“I can take care of us both,” Ichigo whispered, fondling Grimmjow through his pants.

Leaning over the arm of the couch, Grimmjow slid open the drawer of the nightstand between it and his bed. He fished around blindly, then pulled out a small bottle and held it out to Ichigo. 

“Where did you even—”

“Dr. Bucket Hat, the fuckin’ pervert, that’s where. Told me since I’d be _so lonely_ all cooped up in his murder bunker, I should take this so I don’t chafe myself jerkin’ off.”

Ichigo nearly fell off the couch laughing. “That sounds like him, yeah. Probably saw this coming a mile away. He’s so freaky sometimes, I swear he knows the _actual_ future.” He tugged at Grimmjow’s waistband again. “Do you need help with these?”

He swatted the hand away. “They’re elastic for a reason. I got it. Do yours.” When his lap was vacated, Grimmjow wrestled his sweats to his lower thighs, freeing his cock for Ichigo’s eyes to devour. His size was impressive, he knew, fat and long, but the way Ichigo stared lit a fire in the pit of his stomach. He snapped his fingers to get the man’s attention. “You gonna stand there all night?”

Blushing, Ichigo fumbled with the zipper on his jeans and dropped them to the floor along with his boxers. It was evident now that he was just as hard, more slender but longer, too. It was a gorgeous cock, and Grimmjow licked his lips at the sight of it. Ichigo returned to his position on his thighs, their erections brushing together, and he whined at the feeling of skin against skin. He took the lube from Grimmjow and captured his lips in a kiss, tongue demanding immediate entry. As Ichigo explored his mouth, he poured some of the bottle’s contents into his hand, warming it up with his fingers. He began to slick Grimmjow’s cock, causing him to pull away for a breath.

Grimmjow pulled at the hem of Ichigo’s shirt, impatient. “Off,” he grunted as his shaft was pumped. The man obliged, allowing Grimmjow to gnaw at the newly bared skin of his shoulder.

Ichigo leaned into the bite, the slight pain heightening his arousal. “What is with that?” He questioned, despite his enjoyment. “Marking your territory?” An affirmative was grunted into his branded flesh. Ichigo released Grimmjow’s erection to growling protest and emptied more lube onto his hand. He coated his own cock briefly before taking them both in his hand.

“Holy shit, Ich,” Grimmjow murmured into Ichigo’s shoulder. His hand glided up the bare chest, coming to rest at a nipple. He brushed a thumb over the sensitive nub, and Ichigo writhed into the touch, gasping. He took it between two fingers, rubbing and teasing it, enjoying the frantic moans he elicited. He kissed up Ichigo’s shoulder and neck as he played with his nipple, biting down at the angle of his jaw.

As one hand reached to tangle in Grimmjow’s locks, the other sped up the pace on their erections. Ichigo tugged at his hair in time with the nibbles of his skin, squeezing and twisting the glistening heads. 

Curses tumbled out against bite marks as Grimmjow neared his peak. “Fuck, shit, God, Ichigo, fuck, I’m close...”

Ichigo pulled him up by his hair to whisper hot breath in his ear. “Come for me, Grimm.” The man’s cock twitched beneath his quickening fingers at the order. “You marked me up so pretty, now come.” 

Those words were all it took to push Grimmjow over the edge, and his head spat hot and thick onto Ichigo’s hand. His hips arched up, orgasm pulsing through his body, riding out the waves. He collapsed back to the couch, spent cock softening and sensitive. Breath heavy, he pushed the still moving hand away and took Ichigo’s erection in his own. 

“You don’t have to—” Ichigo started, but Grimmjow silenced him with a crushing kiss.

“I want to," he whispered into already bruising lips. His strokes were agonizingly slow, movement deliberate, his cum mixing with the lube. They kissed again, deeply, pace matching the languid rhythm of his hand on Ichigo’s cock.

When they broke apart, their foreheads rested against each other as Ichigo panted, shallow and desperate. His hand still threaded in blue hair, the other now clenching a fistful of t-shirt. “Please… Grimm…”

The cue he’d been waiting for, Grimmjow hastened his speed, pumping Ichigo relentlessly, twisting and flicking his wrist. The man moaned under the treatment, hips jerking erratically. A firm squeeze timed just right sent him spilling onto their laps.

“Fuuuuuuuuck, Grimmjow," Ichigo groaned as he came. He thrust weakly into the hand, the angle awkward, until he’d released it all, cum pooling with Grimmjow’s. He looked down at the mess and wrinkled his nose. He rolled over and lay limp on the couch, chest rising and falling rapidly. After his breathing evened out, he looked over at his partner and tickled a path down the back of his neck. “Shower?”

Grimmjow blushed at the suggestion, seemingly so much more intimate than what had just occurred. He contemplated the naked man on his couch, hesitant.

“You don’t have to join me if you don’t want to.” Ichigo shrugged his shoulders. “I’m meeting with Rukia in the morning, and I _cannot_ show up smelling like sex. She _will_ interrogate me, and I can’t tell her anything because you’re supposed to be dead.”

“How’ve ya managed to keep anything from her when you’re the worst liar I’ve ever met? I clocked you in less than ten minutes, and ya seem like you’ve known her for years.”

“We all went to high school together. We don’t really talk about her work though, so it doesn’t come up. I don’t think she’s allowed to discuss it with civilians.”

“Just dumb luck, then?”

Ichigo smirked, pushing himself out of his seat. “That’s how I’ve gotten through most of my life so far.”

Rolling his eyes, Grimmjow stuck his hand out in front of him. “You’re gonna hafta help me up if you want me to shower. I’m injured, remember?”


	7. Chapter 7

With fingers wrapped around a hefty, ornate door knocker, Ichigo took a steadying breath. He slammed it three times and stepped back, running his tongue over swollen lips. There would be questions, ones he didn’t want to answer even if he was able to. Only a brief wait longer, the door creaked open. “Hey, Ru.”

“Oh, my God, Ichigo, what happened? You’re all bruised!” 

“M’fine,” he grumbled as he dodged her probing fingers. “Don’t worry about it.”

Rukia crossed her arms, indignant. “How can I not worry about it? Have you  _ seen _ yourself?”

“Just got a little rough at the dojo.” He cocked a sly smile. “You should see the other guy.”

“That’s not funny.”

“You gonna let me in or just stand there and mother me all day?”

She sighed but stood aside to allow entrance into the grandiose home.

“Your brother here?” Ichigo asked, stepping over the threshold.

“No, he’s away at a division-head meeting today.” Her eyes narrowed as she examined Ichigo’s profile. “You got those from  _ karate _ ?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m pretty sure the rules don’t allow biting, Ichigo.”

He clamped a hand to his neck. “Lay off, will you? Why do you always have to be in my business?”

“You could’ve just told me you had a date, you know.” Rukia’s shoes clicked on the marble floor as she strode towards her room. “Does the owner of those teeth have a name?”

Ichigo groaned. “This is exactly why I didn’t want to tell you.”

She put her hands up in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. Don’t talk.” She reached for her doorknob then leaned back against the door to face Ichigo, grinning. “I’m just glad to know you broke your dry spell.” Rukia cackled and slipped into her room before Ichigo could react to her comment on his sex life.

When he followed her, she was already splayed over her bed, feet dangling off the side. “I’m gonna pretend you didn’t say that.” He grabbed her desk chair, flipped it around, and sat down straddling the back. He rested his chin on crossed arms. “Any news on Orihime?”

“It’s not my case, Ichigo.”

“Well…” He paused, wanting to be careful about his wording. “Have you heard from that guy you came around with?”

“His partner said he quit.”

“ _ Quit _ ?”

“Yeah. The partner doesn’t talk much, so I didn’t get a lot out of him. Apparently, he’s  _ very _ busy training his replacement.”

Ichigo bit the inside of his cheek to hold back choice insults he had for said replacement. As he stewed in his distaste for the future Sexta Espada, Rukia suddenly sat up on her elbows.

“I wanted to ask you something about that guy, actually.”

“What?" Snapped from rumination, his face pinched in confusion. “What guy?”

“Jaegerjaquez. Well, more so about what happened the last time I was with him.” She lay back down, hands folded on her stomach. “I’ve been afraid to talk to anyone about it. I feel like I don’t know who I can trust anymore.”

“You can always trust me, Ru. What happened?”

“When we went to talk to Chad, he did—they both did something… superhuman. Chad was trying to close his apartment door, but Jaegerjaquez had stuck his foot in, and it just…  _ bent _ around his foot. And then when Chad opened the door, his arms looked  _ metal _ .”

Ichigo’s eyes were wide. He hadn’t spoken to Chad since he warned him not to talk, and while he knew Grimmjow had seen his enhancements, it hadn’t occurred to him that Rukia did too. He didn’t know how to respond to her.

“I know, weird, right? I wondered if maybe I was just imagining things, since Jaegerjaquez brushed it off, but it’s all I’ve been able to think about for two weeks. He told me Chad’s arms were Urahara’s doing. Could that even be possible?”

Thoughts firing at a rapid pace, Ichigo opened and closed his mouth to speak several times. It was now or never. “Rukia,” he started, his tone measured.

Seeing his serious expression, Rukia pulled herself up to perch at the edge of her bed, eyebrows knit together. “He was right. You  _ do _ know him.”

“Do you remember what happened to Kaien?”

A flame of anger lit behind her eyes. “Of course I remember. My SAC had a mental break and murdered his wife before begging me to kill him so he wouldn’t hurt me, too. How could I forget that?”

“What if I told you that’s not exactly what happened? That it wasn’t a mental break, that someone  _ did  _ that to him?”

“I would ask you why you’ve been keeping secrets about your cousin’s death for three years. And what this has to do with Urahara.”

“I can answer those questions, but I need to know that it’ll stay between us, Ru.”

The conflict in Rukia’s mind was evident all over her face. Ichigo knew that she would want the truth about Kaien. He hoped it was enough for her to risk her job. She took a shaky breath. “Alright. Don’t make me regret this, Ichigo.”

He pulled out his phone and dialed, holding it to his ear. “Yo? Can you pick me up at Rukia’s place? It’s time we bring her into all this. Yeah, I’m sure. I know. Thanks.” Hanging up, he stood from the chair and returned it to its place at the desk. “She’ll be here soon. It’s not gonna be easy to hear, but I promise you it will be the truth. And, uh…” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Your phone has to stay here.”  
  


* * *

  
“What is  _ he _ doing here?”

Grimmjow rolled his eyes. “Ya really didn’t tell her anything before you brought her here, huh?”

“Thought it’d be easier to believe if she could see it with her own eyes.”

“Your partner said you quit,” Rukia spat.

“Is that the lie he’s goin’ with? S’pose it’s less trouble than admittin’ he tried to have me killed.” His lip curled in disgust. “’Specially since he thinks I’m actually dead.”

“He thinks you’re  _ dead _ ?”

“Yeah. Prolly would be, too, if Ichigo hadn’t’a brought me here. They ripped my fuckin’ arm off, Kuchiki.”

She looked him up and down, then raised an eyebrow. “Do you have a third arm I don’t know about?”

Grimmjow pulled on the collar of his t-shirt, exposing the sutures lining his shoulder. “Just the one that bastard Luppi took. Are you here to get the truth or just sass me?”

“Ichigo had plenty of time to tell me the truth in the car. He made me wear a blindfold and noise-cancelling headphones instead.”

“Can you two stop antagonizing each other for five goddamn seconds?” Ichigo pinched the bridge of his nose, irritated. “Or at least wait until after we sit down?” He dropped onto a couch in the common area.

Grimmjow took his place next to Ichigo, slouched with his legs spread and arm draped over the sofa back.

Rukia sat in a small armchair opposite them. Her eyes darted between the men, and her mouth fell open. “Oh. My.  _ God _ .”

“Rukia.” Ichigo’s tone was warning, like a parent chiding a child. “Don’t.”

“ _ He’s  _ the owner of the teeth! Are you serious?  _ This  _ guy?”

“Shut up, it’s none of your business!”

Grimmjow laughed, sharp and barking. “I knew you couldn’t lie to her. Should’a let Yoruichi put the make-up on ya.”

“She’s not my color,” Ichigo grumbled through gritted teeth. “Are you guys done making fun of me? Can we move on?”

“Aw, I wasn’t making fun a’ya, Ich.” Reaching up from where his arm rested, Grimmjow ruffled the back of Ichigo’s hair. “Just bein’ honest. You’re a shitty liar.”

“Really?” Rukia’s voice was cold. “Because it seems like Ichigo has been lying an awful lot lately to me.”

“Ru…” 

“What happened to Kaien?”

Ichigo sighed. “Are you familiar with the minor enhancements SACs sometimes go through as part of the Seireitei’s cybernetics program?”

“Not especially. I know he was in the hospital recovering from a procedure that day.”

“Right. But the procedure went wrong. Well, it was tampered with, to be more accurate.”

“Who would do something like that? What would they even have to gain?”

“The director of Hueco Mundo Intelligence, Sousuke Aizen. He was experimenting with mind-altering augmentations.”

“The director of Hueco Mundo Intelligence experimented on your cousin, leading to his death, and you’re sleeping with one of his agents?” Rukia jabbed a finger toward Grimmjow.

“‘Sleeping with’ is a strong—it was just one—” Ichigo sputtered, his ears reddening.

“I  _ ain’t _ his agent anymore, Kuchiki. He wanted me dead ’cause I wouldn’t play ball. I’m not on that bastard’s side.”

“Am I supposed to believe that you’d cut ties so quickly?”

“Believe it or don’t, I got nothin’ to prove to you.”

“Ichigo is one of my best friends! I’m not going to just let him—”

“He’s a big boy, he can make his own decisions. Sorry they ain’t to your liking.” Grimmjow paused, cocking his head. “Actually…” He pulled on his undereye with his middle finger and stuck out his tongue. “I’m not fuckin’ sorry at all.”

Ichigo threw an arm in front of Grimmjow’s chest as if to hold him back, the other gesturing a frustrated question. “Am I gonna have to separate you two?” He looked between them pointedly. “Can you not get over yourselves?”

Rukia crossed her arms, avoiding his gaze. “I can’t say that I understand…” She spoke slowly, her words deliberate. “Or that I approve, but… I trust your judgement. If you believe him, then I believe him.”

“Thank you, Ru.” He turned to Grimmjow, eyebrows raised in expectance. 

“What? She was the one with the problem, not me.”

Ichigo’s expression sharpened into a glare.

Grimmjow huffed. “Fine. I’ll play nice.” He pushed at the restraining hand and it fell to his lap, giving his thigh a quick squeeze in thanks. 

Rukia cleared her throat, her eyes remaining fixed on what must be a particularly interesting vinyl tile. “So, the Director?”

Ichigo’s roaming fingers pulled away, and he leaned forward, forearms resting on knees. “He’s been pushing the limits of cybernetics for years. Kaien was just another casualty of that. From what Urahara said, it seemed Aizen was looking for a way to make his subjects more pliant, more susceptible to his influence.”

“What, like mind control?” Her attention finally raised from the floor. 

“Kind of. It didn’t work, though. Kaien resisted. He broke through to you, or you broke through to him, I don’t know, but he regained control long enough to… Well… you know.”

“Long enough to tell me to shoot him, you mean.”

“He told you he didn’t want to lose himself again. He knew what he’d done to Miyako. He didn’t want to do the same to you.”

“How do you—” Rukia pressed fingertips to her lips, her eyes wet. “I’ve never told you that."

“Urahara keeps eyes on the Seireitei’s cybernetics reports. Looking out for incidents Aizen might have been responsible for. Kaien was one of them.”

“How long have you been working with him?”

“With Urahara?” Ichigo leaned back into the couch. “My whole life. He’s practically family. I didn’t want to lie to you, Ru, but I didn’t want him thrown in prison for something he didn’t do either.”

She tapped her cheek in thought. “I take it Aizen was responsible for what happened to the Visored?”

“Yes.”

“And Orihime?”

“Most likey.”

“No evidence of any of this, either?”

“Nothing that would hold up in court.”

Rukia crossed her ankles, smoothing the skirt of her dress over her thighs. “Then it seems we have our work cut out for us, don’t we?”

Ichigo’s lips parted slightly, gaped in a moment of surprise before breaking into a grin. “You bet your ass we do.”

“Ya got an idea where to start, Kuchiki?”

“I have some…  _ thoughts _ on the matter, yes.”  
  


* * *

  
Pages, folders, photos, the floor was covered in files spilling from their many boxes. Grimmjow sat on the tile, one leg jutting in front of him awkwardly, rifling through cases Rukia had “borrowed” from the Seireitei. Ichigo knelt across from him, thumbing something from Urahara’s archives. The logo on the front told Grimmjow it came from the office of his former employer. “S’that mine?”

Ichigo’s eyes didn’t raise from where they scanned the documents. “Hmm?”

“That file’s Espada. Is it mine?”

He flipped the folder in his fingers, and Grimmjow locked onto a photo of emerald eyes that made a shiver run down his spine. “Yoruichi finally got her paws on this. Was considerably more difficult than swiping yours, I’m told.”

“’Cause there’s prolly a lot worse shit in there. Pretty sure Ulquiorra gets sent on the dirtiest of dirty jobs.”

“I get that impression from his file. His augs are intense, too. I’m not sure I wanna see what the three above him had done.”

“More intense than mine?”

“I dunno, maybe it just has a squick factor that yours didn’t have.” He laid the folder over his knee, fingers running over words. “Like this thing with his eye, that it’s basically a camera he can pop out of the socket to pull recordings off of?” Ichigo shivered, sticking out his tongue. “Gross.”

“You should see the hole it leaves in his head when he takes it out.”

“You’ve seen him use that one?”

Grimmjow shrugged. “It was more useful in our line of work than a lotta other shit we have done.”

Ichigo hummed in understanding, still glued to the pages. He wrinkled his nose. “Jesus, he’s brutal.”

“What’d ya read?”

“Looks like he’s got quite the MO. These photos of his victims, they’ve all got this same chest wound, always the same spot. The way it’s described in the reports, too… They really turn you guys into lethal weapons, huh? I think he kills with just his hand.”

Grimmjow froze. “ _ What _ ?” Ichigo tossed him one of the pictures, and he held it with a shaking hand. The gaping hole in the victim’s chest… “Holy shit.” He reached for another box Rukia had brought, this one taken from the trunk of his car, still in the hospital parking lot plus one tire boot. He grabbed the folder lying on top and tore it open. Greeting him were the two cops from the alley, with the same holes in the same place. “Holy  _ shit _ . I’m a fucking  _ idiot _ !”

“What—” The file landed on Ichigo’s lap before he finished his question. He looked at the crime scene photos, eyes wide, then skimmed the words beneath them. “These are the cops that were escorting Orihime?”

“He was the one who took ’er. I should’a known. He kept sayin’ shit that would make my skin crawl, but still I never thought…” His claws twitched under his fingertips. “So  _ stupid _ !”

“Oi!” Ichigo swatted Grimmhow’s shin with the folder. “None of that. You’re not stupid or an idiot. I mean, come on, how often do detectives arrest their partners for a crime they were both investigating. It’s a little crazy, Grimm.”

“I’ve never been in a combat situation with him as an Espada, only as a special agent. I’ve never seen him… Fuck, and Szayel knew, too. I thought he was tryin’ to say that one of us had done it, but he was tryin’ to say a  _ specific _ one of us had done it. To let Ulquiorra know that he knew.”

“There’s no reason you should have seen this before now. Stop beating yourself up over it.” Ichigo rubbed Grimmjow’s ankle where his sweatpants had ridden up. “Maybe you should go back to the Seireitei files, get your mind off of this?”

“My eyes are tired. Why’d we get saddled with this schlep work, anyway? Kuchiki dumps a bunch’a boxes on us, and we gotta be the ones to sift through it all?”

“Rukia has a  _ job _ .”

“So do you.”

Ichigo blinked. “I, uh… Technically. But it’s just working for my dad, it’s not like—”

“Not that I don’t like havin’ ya around, but I think you could be doin’ a better job of at least  _ pretending _ to live your normal life. I mean shit, when was the last time you even went home?”

He looked up and to the side, head tilted and eyebrows pinched. “Thursday night? I think I left Friday morning.”

“It’s—” Grimmjow rolled his wrist, arm heavy in his lap, to look at his watch.  _ 00:35 _ . “ _ Sunday _ now, Ichigo.”

“Shit, is it really? I got so wrapped up in feeling like we were finally getting somewhere…”

“Go home. This stuff’ll still be here in the morning.”

“My dad knows where I am.” Ichigo pushed the files from his lap, crawling delicately across the paperwork with a playful smile. “What if I want to stay here with you?” 

Grimmjow could feel his face tightening, teeth clenched so hard it hurt. 

Ichigo reared back on his toes. “Do you not want that?” The words fell out as a hurried murmur.

Something caught in Grimmjow’s throat, and he swallowed, saliva going down thick like syrup. A strangled noise escaped from within him, some strange mix of a whine and a growl. He tried to speak around the choking feeling. “No, I—I do want that. But they’re watchin’ you, Ich. Do you know how long I was at the hospital before they knew I was talkin’ to Ishida? Couldn’t’a been longer than ten, maybe fifteen minutes. It’d set off some alarms if ya don’t ever fuckin’ _go_ _home_. I just—I don't want you—" He tried to shy his face away, but his cheek was caught by a warm hand, pad of the thumb rubbing against messy stubble.

“You’re worried about me.”

He puffed harsh air out his nose. “Just got first-hand experience being on the wrong side of those assholes is all.” 

“Hey. Look at me.”

He did, and he found himself drowning in those amber eyes again. He could see the sincerity there, almost felt like he knew the words Ichigo would speak before he heard them.

“I have that first-hand experience, too. You’re right. I should be more careful.” Ichigo leaned in and kissed him, pressing against him with crushing force, as if the strength of their lips alone could make his next statement more true. “But we’re not gonna go down without a hell of a fight, alright?”

And Grimmjow believed him.


End file.
